


You Bring the Love, I'll Bring the Lust

by clearinghouse



Series: Angel of Love and Demon of Lust [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Bondage, M/M, Praise Kink, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 17:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20157292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearinghouse/pseuds/clearinghouse
Summary: Now that Heaven and Hell no longer care what they do, Crowley and Aziraphale are living together, more or less. It’s new. It’s nice. It’s weird. And it’s tempting.Crowley will never admit it, but he’s been wondering about something. It comes up when he and Azirpahale say goodnight to each other, for example. Instead of biffing off awkwardly, Crowley thinks, what would it be like to get a goodnight hug from his best friend? That kind of thing would be soft and warm and special, wouldn’t it, enough to fill the void in his demonic heart? But whatever. It was just a thought.Meanwhile, when they say goodnight, Aziraphale pretends that he isn’t entertaining some of his own secret thoughts about his best friend. For instance, instead of turning upstairs to go to sleep, what if Crowley slowly slithered up to him, pushed him against the nearest wall, coolly hiked a knee in between the angel’s legs, and had his way with him? Well, Aziraphale will let the heat death of the universe come before he lets Crowley know about that fantasy.It’s a good thing they are both so bad at keeping secrets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds himself fantasising more and more about his angel friend. He's afraid of losing the good thing he has with the angel, though, so he pretends that he isn't. Unbeknownst to him, Aziraphale is in the same situation. It's only a matter of time before their thin walls begin to crack.

One day, over breakfast, Crowley leaned an elbow on the table to lazily rest his head and asked over his coffee mug, “Is the bookshop all right?”

Aziraphale, who had been raising one of the pieces of toast from his plate, paused and blinked.

Over breakfast is a bit of a loaded statement. We’ve skipped over the part where an angel stayed over at demon’s flat once, spent most of the next few months repeatedly going back there for more, and then on one particular evening brought an old-fashioned toaster so that he could make toast from bread in Crowley’s cupboard for the both of them the next morning. This morning was that morning.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Aziraphale said.

There was a sluggish pause, and the words that followed were also sluggish. “Same as always?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Come now, you know that it isn’t. My bookshop was burned down—”

“I mean, same as always since the Antichrist kid put it back together,” Crowly hastily amended, not wanting to hear about bookshops being burnt down. It brought back bad memories about a best friend being discorporated. Immediately, Crowley felt like an idiot for starting this conversation from this angle. He had hoped the indirect approach would make things easier. He’d been wrong.

Aziraphale cooled. “Oh, well, yes, it hasn’t changed since then.”

“Good.” Crowley wasn’t sure if he still wanted to say what he was going to say. “’S good.” He idly drummed his fingers on his coffee mug, hoping in vain to be let off the hook.

Aziraphale managed to hold out for three seconds before asking, “Why do you ask?”

“Eh.” Crowley could already feel himself regretting getting out of bed this morning. He almost lied, and said, ‘no reason, just asking,’ but instead found himself saying, “It’s not haunted or anything, is it?”

“Haunted!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

Suddenly irritated, Crowley groaned. “Damn it, I don’t know,” he grumbled, “is there something wrong with it? Missing a floor or two? Noisy neighbours? Power outage?” 

“No, dear, certainly not. Adam did a very nice job of putting it back together. Since then, it’s been beautifully ship-shape. It’s exactly as it was before.”

Crowley knew that wasn’t true. He had already been told by Aziraphale that the bookshop was not exactly the same as it had been, considering the couple of new books and things the kid had added. 

As if Aziraphale could read his mind, the angel allowed, “Mostly the same. In any case, it is quite the same enough that I really don’t understand why you are asking about it.”

The spotlight had shifted squarely onto Crowley. Here it goes, he thought to himself. “Just making sure there wasn’t some other reason you kept coming over here,” he said, with as much casualness as he could possibly pack into his voice. He meant for it to come off as a joke. He definitely wasn’t nervous about saying something so revealing. Definitely couldn’t let his angel see him be nervous about it. “Not secretly homeless, or something.”

“Oh, goodness no!” Aziraphale answered easily with a wave of his toast, surprising Crowley. “Really, the bookshop is perfectly liveable. It’s not like it was when I was without my bookshop and you so kindly invited me to stay the first time. I don’t come over to your home because I have to, you know. Honestly, it was never as if I had to.” He took a deep, indulgent bite of his toast—and then froze in the middle of chewing it, as a fresh understanding clouding his brow.

A heavy feeling settled in the pit of Crowley’s stomach. “Then,” he began, his gaze sliding sideways to nowhere. As much as he needed to see whatever expression was on Aziraphale’s face, he couldn’t quite bring himself to commit to it.

Aziraphale’s swallow was very loud. 

Stay casual, Crowley told himself firmly, keep it casual, always casual, you’re the boss. “Then, why do you keep coming here,” he said as if it didn’t matter, “if you don’t gotta?”

“Well… Well, I… well.”

The silence, brief as it was, was too hard to bear. At last Crowley gave in and looked back to Aziraphale. The face he found there was devastating to see. Aziraphale was confused and frightened. Aziraphale might tell lies with his lips, but his gentle face was incapable of it, at least as far as this particular demon was concerned.

“I suppose I had assumed that your invitation was an open one,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I didn’t realise… that you had meant that I was welcome to stay until I had a place of my own again.”

Crowley sat up straight. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, I understand. It is all right.” But Aziraphale’s ever-helpful face said: I’m lying. It wasn’t all right. “How presumptuous I have been.” He made an embarrassed smile. “I misunderstood your invitation. I sincerely apologise. I have been entering your home, using your things…” At this, the half-eaten toast was guiltily placed back onto the plate. “How presumptuous of me. It never occurred to me that I was taking advantage of your charity.”

Anger simmered underneath the demon’s surface. “Pick the food back up.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “What?”

“Pick the food back up,” Crowley repeated, his voice low. Yes, anger. That’s what this feeling was. Or it could have been fury. Or was it indignation? He wasn’t really sure. Whatever it was, it burned in his chest. “And don’t accuse me of charity, angel. I don’t bloody do charity.”

Poor Aziraphale was wide-eyed. He seemed lost. Up a creek without a paddle. “I don’t understand. You were just illustrating how I don’t have to come here any longer. It’s a reasonable point to make. Of course, I don’t wish to make a nuisance of myself.”

It was painful to see Aziraphale this upset, especially when it was all Crowley’s fault. Crowley took a moment to sigh to calm himself down a bit. Then he relaxed his rigid posture, reminded himself of how much of a boss he was, and sat back in his chair. “I’m not saying any more until you pick the bleeding food back up,” he said. When the stubborn angel did nothing, Crowley pressed, “You’re supposed to be my guest, right? You’re not eating my bread, though. That’s an offensive thing for a guest to do, isn’t it? So, eat the damn toast.”

Still, Aziraphale didn’t say anything. He seemed to not know what to say. At least he did pick up the half-eaten toast again. Crowley could see that Aziraphale had just barely resisted the urge to cradle the toast gingerly with both hands, like a fragile vase. He just held it in the air, though, uncertainly.

“You’re not a bother,” Crowley said gently.

Aziraphale’s soft eyes sparkled with hope.

“It was an open one. The invitation, I mean. You’re welcome to come here, whenever.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, temporarily losing his balance in his chair. “Ah.” A somewhat delayed smile rose to his lips. “Ah. Thank you very much. I… appreciate it.”

“Yeah, sure.” Crowley’s gaze fell down from the angel’s beautiful smile to settle on the suspended toast. He wanted to say that Aziraphale was more than welcome to come over. His flat had never felt much like home until Aziraphale had brightened it with his happy presence, after all. He didn’t say any of that. “You haven’t answered my question, you know.”

“Oh? Which question was that?”

Crowley nearly laughed at Aziraphale’s lacklustre attempt to stall. He smirked to cover the laugh, and looked back up. “You know which question it was.”

The angel made for a delicious sight. Aziraphale was adorably flustered, and trying to pretend that he wasn’t. “Yes, I suppose I do. You wish to know why I continue to come here.” At long last, the toast was finally eaten. He finished the piece in three bites, and then laid a thick glare on Crowley, daring the demon to make fun of him for stalling this long. “If you must know,” Aziraphale declared, doing his best to adopt a self-confident air, “I come over because I like it here.”

“Because you like my company?”

“Yes, that too.” He picked up the second piece of toast.

Crowley grinned. A sweet warmth simmered beside his heart. “Because you like me?”

“Yes, of course!” Aziraphale was furious and blushing. He all but shovelled more toast into his mouth, but it didn’t conceal his embarrassment at all.

Sweet happiness bubbled up inside of Crowley like champagne, warming him down to his fingers and toes. He could have guessed that Aziraphale was sticking around just because he felt like it, but to have it confirmed was so much better. It made Crowley feel… good? Yes, very good. It felt awfully good to hear Aziraphale say out loud that he really did like Crowley that much. Every fibre of his demonic being longed for even more of Aziraphale’s affection. How marvellous it would feel to be wrapped up in that affection, to be drowned in the angel’s fond praises and reassuring touches.

Aziraphale was eating now, and watching him, waiting for some other response. He looked a bit anxious, still.

It was cute. That word stuck around in Crowley’s head. His angel was terribly cute. “Feeling’s mutual,” he murmured, remembering too late to affect a casual tone when he said it. Hopefully, it still came off as casual enough.

It seemed it did. Aziraphale looked pleased. Joy and tenderness radiated off of him in waves. His mere presence felt so sweet.

From his side of the table, so fascinatingly close and yet so horribly far away from Aziraphale, Crowley secretly savoured every last drop of that friendly, forbidden sweetness.

Just like every morning. Rinse, repeat.

* * *

While Aziraphale did enjoy calling on Crowley almost every day, he had quickly run into the issue of what to do when nighttime came. The problem made itself apparent whenever Crowley went to sleep. Going to sleep amounted to Crowley going upstairs to bed, which amounted to Aziraphale not seeing him for a very long time, and therefore Aziraphale being alone for several hours. Usually, Aziraphale’s solution was to spend the evening hours reading. That was what he would be doing if he were at his own home, and not at Crowley’s. He loved to read.

It had occurred to him that he could simply leave to return to his bookshop whenever Crowley did go to sleep. That would have been exceedingly logical. On the other hand, in six thousand years, Aziraphale had not had this chance to be this close to his friend for so much of the time. It was… fun. He was milking the opportunity for all it was worth. Even if occasionally he spent eight or so extra hours at Crowley’s flat alone just so he could get one or two extra hours in the morning with him before the bookshop opened, it was a win-win situation for him.

Consequently, Aziraphale had to plan in advance to ensure that he had a night’s worth of reading material whenever he visited his friend. Fortunately, the body of human literature was vast and never-ending, and his list of books to read was never empty. As long as he remembered to bring at least one of those books with him to Crowley’s, everything was peachy.

Currently, it was late afternoon, nearly time for Aziraphale to close up shop for the day. So, he was walking through his bookshop, searching for the next book that was at the top of his to-read list. He knew he had a copy of it around here somewhere—

—and, just when he’d thought he’d finally hit upon the right section of books, someone laid a hand on his shoulder from behind, startling him.

The voice that greeted him was a beloved one. “Hey, angel.”

Aziraphale’s heart raced. He couldn’t help it. The silky voice; the physical proximity; the weight of the firm hand on his shoulder. Crowley’s closeness had a powerful effect on him. It was more intoxicating and more brain-numbing than the finest wine. He was firmly within the demon’s power, and it felt good, if only for one glorious second. Aziraphale knew that Crowley could do whatever devilish act he wanted to Aziraphale, and Aziraphale would welcome it, because he trusted Crowley. He wanted Crowley.

It was over too soon. Crowley said, “Looking for this?” And then he let go of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale hastily cleared his guilty head, chasing away the treacherous thoughts that were an insult to them both. He managed to turn around.

It was the book that he had been looking for. It was in Crowley’s other hand, and the demon was offering it to him. “I found it for you,” he said, deadpan. “Aren’t I helpful?” He was wearing his tinted glasses.

“Thank you.” Aziraphale accepted the book with both hands. He could still hear his treacherous heartbeat in his ears, but he ignored it. “How did you know I was looking for this?”

“I guessed,” Crowley said.

That was hard to believe. “You guessed? Are you serious?”

“It’s the same author as the one you read the other day.”

“But this author wrote many books!”

“I didn’t think any of the other ones were… nice enough for your taste.”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Nice enough?” It was fortunate for him that the demon never told lies, because Aziraphale could never get a confident read on Crowley’s expression, glasses or no glasses.

For what it was worth, Crowley seemed amused. “Yeah, you know. Happy endings. Funny stuff. Uh, people generally not being arseholes to each other. That’s the sort of stuff you go in for.”

“Not always!”

“Almost always. Be honest, you practically live for rainbows and sunshine, angel.”

Aziraphale was reminded of the thrilling, forbidden sensation of Crowley’s hand upon his shoulder. The memory shamed him a little. “Not just rainbows and sunshine,” he said, tentatively, but his own honesty caught him off guard. Quickly, he thought of some excuse for his tastes not being as angelic as they should be. “Shakespeare is hardly so innocent, for starters.”

“Oh, yeah? And which things of his have you read the most? The comedies, right?”

Aziraphale gave the question two seconds of consideration, and then quickly realised that he was better off not answering it. “That’s beside the point!”

Crowley, merciful in victory, held his hands up. “All right, all right, yeah. I get it. You’re not just into happy little rainbows.” He gave a short hum. “Although. My guess about the book was right on the money. So I was right about one thing. You do prefer the cutesy stuff.”

But not always, Aziraphale thought quietly to himself. His tastes weren’t always as well-behaved as they should have been. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Aziraphale was feeling more ashamed by the second. “Thanks again for finding the book.” His friend happened to still be in his way, so he made a show of waiting for Crowley to step aside.

But Crowley didn’t take the hint. He stayed there, thinking. Then, Crowley’s hands abruptly clapped together, then slowly spread out in a curve shape, leaving a real, gorgeous rainbow stretching out between his palms, scintillating and filling the air with colour. “See? Cutesy isn’t so bad,” he said softly. “There’s nothing wrong with cutesy.”

Aziraphale’s brain broke like dropped glass. He was in shock. Did Crowley—a tough demon who refused to be called nice—really just make this dainty little rainbow, for the sake of cheering up Aziraphale? He stared at the rainbow. He expected the innocent rainbow to laugh at him and to maliciously expose his un-cutesy desires concerning Crowley.

“Seems fine to me,” Crowley continued. “Cute stuff suits you. No point in being shy about it, right? Even if it is cutesy.”

“You made a rainbow,” Aziraphale said, feeling foolish for it even as he said it. Evidently, the shock of the gesture was wearing off slowly. 

“Yeah, so what? We can still do miracles. Did you forget?”

“You,” the emphasis was heavy, “made a rainbow.” 

Crowley frowned. His raised hands, and the rainbow fell away sharply, disintegrating into ash. 

Ouch. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say. “Oh,” Aziraphale said, “I’m sorry. That was unkind of me. I… I shouldn’t have said that. I hadn’t intended to insult you. I was merely… I was merely—”

“No, don’t sweat it. It’s not like you’re wrong.” The perpetual slouch that Crowley wore grew a fraction more rigid. “Rainbows aren’t really my thing. Fine for you, sure. Too soft for me. Must be a shock to see me making them. It’s not my business to be making them.”

There was something off about him, now, though. Aziraphale ventured to ask, carefully, “But,” he hesitated, “could it be that you do like rainbows, Crowley?”

Unfortunately, Crowley tensed like a bowstring. “What?” he shouted.

Oh, so that had been the wrong thing to say, again. “Of course not, of course not! What a silly thing for me to suggest!” Aziraphale hurriedly laughed, before his counterpart had the chance to say anything more. “No, rainbows and sunshine are most certainly not for you! Indeed, no more than less-than-innocent things would be for me!” A self-effacing pang stabbed his heart. “Indeed not! What an absurd notion that is. No, rainbows are much too cutesy, as you would say! Better leave those things to me. And that’s that.”

Crowley was deathly silent. He was eerily still.

Aziraphale held his breath. Goodness, gracious. This was awful. What Aziraphale wouldn’t give to know what Crowley was thinking right now! Was Crowley angry with him? That hardly seemed likely, but anything was possible.

Eventually, Crowley got around to saying something. “Yeah, too cutesy.” The words came out in a dead monotone. “Close up the shop, angel. Then we’re going on a walk. It’s too stuffy in here.” He slinked far away, to sink into a chair near the door and lazily spread himself over the chair’s arms to wait. 

There were no objections from Aziraphale. He was only too happy to leave this particular conversation behind. He was grateful, too, for Crowley’s forgiveness. Not that he had forgiven himself. And he had a lot that he needed forgiveness for. Firstly, had Aziraphale entertained some very rude thoughts about Crowley. Secondly, Crowley had tried to do something nice for him with that rainbow, and Aziraphale had made him feel bad about it. “Stupid, stupid,” he muttered privately to himself as he packed up. He would have to be a better friend next time.

As he did every day, he would have to settle for secretly admiring Crowley and his stylish charm from afar.

* * *

Crowley meandered comfortably with Aziraphale on the street, once they were outside and their awkward conversation from a few minutes ago was forgotten. The walk together quickly cleared the atmosphere between them. It was pleasant and familiar. Maybe one day, Aziraphale would take Crowley’s hand firmly into his own, and allow Crowley to bask in the feel of his warmth and his fondness while they walked.

Or, maybe that kind of comfort was as closed off to him as all the rainbows in the universe.

While they were walking, they passed by a woman walking three little dogs. Aziraphale greeted the woman and bent down to say hello to the friendly dogs. “Hello there! Aren’t you are all just the cutest!” He scratched behind the ears of the animals. “I only wish I had three hands, so that I could pet you all at once,” Aziraphale laughed.

Crowley watched quietly. His gaze was drawn to the fingers tracing affection into the fur of the happy dogs. If I was in animal form, Crowley thought, Aziraphale might pet me like that.

Immediately, Crowley had to suppress a flinch. How pathetic could he be? He was far too proud a demon to let himself be envious of dogs.

It wasn’t long before the two of them found themselves standing in front of their favourite park bench. Crowley sat down first, more out of habit than out of any desire to sit. He stretched himself out.

Aziraphale wordlessly settled into place next to him on the bench, keeping his posture proper as always. He placed his book bag on his lap.

The weather was clement. The sun hadn’t quite set yet. The clouds overhead were moving at the most leisurely pace imaginable. If Crowley wasn’t worthy of feeling the sweetness of Aziraphale’s palm in his own, then at least Crowley could be happy with this. 

He had no idea when the angel had become so critically important to him. Had it always been this way? Had it happened recently? Crowley didn’t know, and truthfully, he didn’t care. He was an expert at living in the present, and this present was awfully nice to live in.

“I just want to say one thing,” Aziraphale said, “and then I won’t talk about it again. It’s something I have to make sure you know.”

Crowley groaned. This sounded like something serious. “Do you have to? It’s such a nice day.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale retorted staunchly. “I do. It’s about you being a demon.”

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “What can I say? It’s a fact.”

“Crowley, please.”

“Okay. I’m listening, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Well, I know that you are one, but I want you to know something. That fact doesn’t matter to me as much as you might think. I don’t think of you as ‘the demon’ or ‘the Adversary’, or at least not anymore, but as ‘Crowley’, because we’re friends. So, whether you fancy innocent things or you fancy less-than-innocent things, I don't think any less of you.” He paused. “Rainbows or otherwise.”

“Less-than-innocent,” Crowley said.

“What?”

“That’s the second time you used that phrase.”

“That’s all you heard from everything I said?”

“Oh, I heard the rest of it, too. Awfully nice of you. So,” Crowley whispered dangerously, “what are you thinking of when you say less-than-innocent? Be detailed.”

There was a tiny explosion of discomfiture in Aziraphale’s expression. The angel sputtered. “What! Crowley!”

Crowley laughed. “Good reaction. Ten out of ten.”

“How can you ask me something like that?” Aziraphale held his mortified face in his hands. “You’re a demon, of all things! It should be quite plain to you what less-than-innocent means!”

This was getting fun. “I dunno. I’m starting to think that you must have the wrong idea about me. What sort of less-than-innocent thing do you suppose I fancy, anyway?”

“Don’t be cruel! I’m not answering that!”

“If you’re not gonna answer, I guess I’ll just have to start guessing…”

Aziraphale moaned in agony. “No, please don’t. Fine, I’ll tell you. I am referring to…” He raised his head and glanced around the park. He pointed to a romantic couple who were having a picnic some distance away. “That.” Ashamed, he buried his face in his hands again.

“A picnic? Seems innocent to me.”

“Not picnics!”

“What is it, then? Dating? Dating is fairly low on the guilty spectrum, isn’t it?”

“Not dating!” 

“What else, then? Sitting on the ground?”

Aziraphale raised his head once more, so that he could stare fierce daggers into Crowley. “You are having fun with me!”

Crowley grinned. “You make it way too easy.” He preemptively cut off Aziraphale’s next quip by saying, “So, you suppose I fancy seducing people?”

“No, I am not suggesting that! It was just supposed to be an example!” Aziraphale’s fingers rubbed his temples. “My whole point was, whether you act like a demon or an angel or neither, you will still be the same Crowley to me. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I don’t seduce people,” Crowley said anyway, enjoying every single frustrated twitch that his totally uncensored answers wrung from Aziraphale. “Not really my cuppa.”

“Please!” Aziraphale’s voice broke in places. “You don’t have to tell me anything about that, Crowley! It was just an example.”

Crowley could only press harder. He relished any opportunity to get a rise out of the angel. “The whole seduction bit takes too much craftsmanship, for one thing. Maybe it could corrupt one soul fine, but that’s a poor yield for the work.”

“Crowley, that’s quite all right, please,” Aziraphale said. “I won’t bring this up again. I’ve learnt my lesson. I don’t need to hear any more, thank you.”

“And it is way, way too much work. Doing it properly takes a lot of time. It takes some touchy-feely build-up, if you know what I mean. If I was ever going to seduce somebody, it would have to be somebody I really care about. Not worth it, otherwise.”

There was a silent period in which Crowley waited for the next humiliated grumble from Aziraphale. He waited and waited. But none came.

That was no fun. Crowley got the message. He had made Aziraphale too uncomfortable. “Okay, I’ll stop. Sorry.”

“Actually,” Aziraphale murmured. His pretty face was soft with sentiment and kindness. “That was a rather sweet thing that you just said. About it having to be someone you would… care about it. I wasn’t expecting you to say something so sweet.”

“Too sweet, am I?” Crowley said. That wouldn’t do. Back to the fun and games, he decided. A positively villainous impulse rose to his surface. “You were expecting something nasty out of me, right?” he teased, and he admired how Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley liked that look on him. Getting a reaction out of such an angelic, pure-minded being as Aziraphale was criminally easy. “Well, I don’t want to disappoint your expectations. Let’s see if I can make my answer nastier for you. I guess, theoretically, if I was keen on somebody, and that somebody was keen on nastiness, then I could probably do nasty stuff to them. Not too nasty, but maybe some basic kinky stuff. Like a blindfold tied around the eyes, or handcuffs attached to the bed,” he whispered evilly, slowly leaning towards his too-still friend, punctuating each word, ”or a good long spreader bar—”

Suddenly Aziraphale shot right up onto his feet, his legs shaking. “Ritz!” He shouted. If smoke wasn’t shooting out of his ears, it might as well have been. “Dinner! Let’s! At the Ritz! Shall we!” He must have stood up too quickly, though, because he grabbed the bench for dear life, as if he might faint dead away any second.

“Got a head rush, there, angel?” Crowley laughed out loud. It had been worth it a hundred times over, to see Aziraphale so affected. It was too funny. “Leaving so soon?” He let himself relax even more fully on the bench, letting the angel get an eyeful of exactly how comfortable he was. “What’s the hurry, anyway?”

“Shut up,” Aziraphale replied sharply. His soft face was now a perfect storm of embarrassment and near-panic. His brow was artfully indignant to the extreme. “You’re the worst!”

That was only fair. “Whatever you say.” Thoughtfully, Crowley tilted his head. “It looks like a table just opened up at the Ritz.”

“Thank you.” Composure slowly came back to Aziraphale. He stood up more properly and adjusted the front of his coat with two very unsteady hands. “Honestly,” he said. “You have quite the nerve on you.”

Crowley shrugged. “What can I say? That’s what you get for making assumptions about demons and the things they fancy.”

“I never made any assumptions!”

“Sure, you didn’t.” The demon’s sarcastic smirk showed how little he believed Aziraphale. “If you’re really so angry about it, though, then tempting me to dinner is a strange way to show it.”

Aziraphale made no mention about whether or not his dinner declaration qualified as tempting. “I’m not angry,” he said shortly. “In fact…” A shadow passed over Aziraphale, and then a sort of sudden strength seemed to fill him. “In fact, I’m completely fine with what you said. Completely fine. I had said that I wouldn’t think less of you, no matter which direction your tastes ran, and I stand by it. So, no,” he declared with a certainty that was not at all shared by his nervous posture, “I am not bothered.”

Crowley stared at him incredulously from behind dark glasses. He couldn’t believe it. Even after playing with him like that, the insufferable angel was nothing but generous with kindness and acceptance. The mad blush painting his pale cheeks was not gone, and yet he was still making an effort to let Crowley know that he was accepted. 

It was touching. Heart-crushing, even. It made Crowley feel so exquisitely warm and safe that he could have punched something out of sheer frustration.

It was a wonderful yet excruciating feeling. Even though Crowley didn’t really care about blindfolds or handcuffs or whatever—it’s not like Aziraphale would ever be interested in any of that, after all—the thought that Aziraphale would still accept him, if he did, was more than he could bear. More than ever, Crowley longed for a comforting embrace or soft touch from Aziraphale. He wanted more of Aziraphale’s golden affection, in any way that he could get it. 

“But the topic hardly makes for civilised conversation,” Aziraphale added. “I’d rather we stopped discussing it, if you don’t mind.”

Reality forced Crowley to gather his wits again. He could be content with just this. He had to be. There was no other choice. He would be lucky to get a comforting pat on the shoulder from Aziraphale. Anything more than that would simply be asking too much. To ask for something like an embrace or a kiss on the cheek would be too humiliating, for one thing. Moreover, it would hurt far too much when Aziraphale turned him down in disgust at such an uncool request from a demon. “Yeah, okay.” He felt so empty. He was only inches apart from his angel, but it was too much. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Well, then, shall we?” he asked, after a bit.

For once, Crowley feared that if he spoke, his desires might come accidentally tumbling out. He was usually good at controlling himself, but not at present. The damning words pleading for Aziraphale’s kindness were waiting at the tip of his tongue, burning to be unleashed. Crowley bit them back. Listlessly, Crowley heaved himself out of his cosy position on the bench and followed Aziraphale’s lead out of the park.

* * *

Aziraphale was in more than a little bit of trouble. Courtesy of Crowley’s wicked teasing, the angel’s mind was loaded with fresh fantasy fodder. It was a difficult exercise in self-control, and self-control wasn’t something Aziraphale was very skilled at, to begin with.

He could barely stay focused for five seconds on the dinner table in front of him. He was haunted by images of strips of cloth falling delicately from Crowley’s fingers, of the cloth coming closer, of the cloth covering Aziraphale’s eyes. It was an impossible dream. It was a vain hope that Crowley would put Aziraphale in a situation where he had no choice but to leave everything to Crowley’s whims. The demon would be welcome to do any sinful deed that he liked to him, and Aziraphale would have nothing to do except to take it, and to trust Crowley.

“Is the ravioli too dry, or something?” Crowley asked.

Startled out of his reverie, Aziraphale sat up even straighter. “Not at all. It is divine. Excellently prepared.”

Although Crowley’s meal was in the same half-finished state as Aziraphale’s, there was nothing unusual about Crowley’s side of things. Crowley got his fill of food faster than Aziraphale did. But Aziraphale was making a poor show of his appetite today.

In order to seem more normal, he took a particularly greedy stab of his food and ate it with gusto.

Crowley said nothing. His head rolled lazily against the back of his seat.

But if Crowley used handcuffs, Aziraphale’s brain suddenly whispered to him, then that would be good, too. The binds would fasten the angel down, leaving him vulnerable for Crowley to use at his leisure. In his wildest dreams, Crowley’s expression would be dripping with pure passion and lust. There would be no room for doubt that Crowley genuinely desired Aziraphale, genuinely wanted him. The thought of feeling desired enticed Aziraphale to no end. Being bound, Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to mess it up, either. Instead, Crowley would make sure it was good for both of them. Crowley would make it so good.

“You’re awfully quiet, you know,” Crowley said. “I wonder if I threw you off too much with all my talk at the park.”

Guilt fell on top of Aziraphale like an anvil from a classic cartoon. He was being terribly selfish. His daydreaming was getting in the way of enjoying the real Crowley’s company. With effort, he affected a serene smile for Crowley’s benefit, hoping to reassure him. “Oh, no, no. I am quite all right.”

The effort wasn’t successful, though. “That’s a weird look you’ve got on your face.”

Aziraphale froze. “I beg your pardon?”

“That smile you’ve got on,” Crowley said. “It’s not very convincing.”

That unsettled Aziraphale deeply. By surprise, he’d just been stripped of his defences. “You’re wrong,” he lied, desperate to keep things afloat. “Why shouldn’t I smile? I am having a splendid time.”

The beginnings of a heavy frown darkened Crowley’s handsome features.

“I mean it. I really am. This is a definition of a splendid time, for me. I am enjoying a lovely dinner at my favourite restaurant with the companionship of my favourite—” He faltered. What was he supposed to call Crowley, anyway? Demon? Associate? Sometimes-flatmate? Those were hardly fitting. Fortunately, a much better answer came to him in a divine flash. “With my best friend,” he said decisively.

Dark sunglasses looked at him in something like awe and wonder. Crowley said quietly, “Your favourite best friend?” Unbelievably, he was perfectly serious.

It was only good manners to answer a serious tone with a similarly serious tone, even if this was silly. “Yes, of course,” Aziraphale replied. Then, because it didn’t feel like enough, he said the words aloud properly. “Yes, my favourite best friend.”

“Hm. But I could have sworn,” Crowley dragged on, goading him, “that I was supposed to be your worst enemy.”

“Shut up! You’re my closest, dearest best friend in the whole world!” Aziraphale all but shouted at him, blushing but holding back none of the strength of his conviction.

The effect on Crowley was powerful and immediate. His sad frown blossomed into a beautiful, peaceful smile. He seemed so awfully content out of nowhere, and it had only taken a reassurance from Aziraphale. “Of course I am,” Crowley said. “There’s no better best friend than me. So quit worrying about whatever it is you’re worried about. Just chill and be here with me. It’s easy to do, right?” Crowley was asking for so little from him. Crowley always asked for so little. 

Was there nothing more substantial that Aziraphale could give him?

Well, a spreader bar would make a nice gift, Aziraphale’s horribly distracting brain cut in abruptly, destroying the fleeting tranquillity that his mind had found. Going with the impossible assumption that Crowley desired Aziraphale, then it would be natural for Crowley to want to keep Aziraphale’s legs spread wide open. The unyielding bar would allow for no self-consciousness, no shyness. Crowley would be free to take whatever pleasure he could from Aziraphale’s willing and eager body. 

But Aziraphale had to stop thinking about this right now. These fantasies were taking him away from the Crowley whom he cared so much about. Infuriated with himself—furiously disappointed in himself and the selfish perversity that had been festering like a tumour inside of him for months—Aziraphale held his own head and whispered, “Damn it!”

“What?” Crowley was instantly alert. “What is it?”

Tears welled in the corners of Aziraphale’s eyes. “I have to go.”

“Like Somewhere you do!” Crowley hissed. “You’re not going anywhere.” 

Aziraphale had started to rise, to leave the table and flee to the sanctity of his bookshop or just anywhere where he couldn’t disappoint Crowley any further. However, a gentle yet iron-strong grasp on his arm had quickly stopped him.

“What’s the matter with you, angel?” Crowley spoke so softly and with single-minded concern. It was unbearable to the angel. Crowley deserved someone better than him.

“I’m not being a good friend to you.”

Crowley snorted. “And that’s why you’re up and leaving me?”

Aziraphale winced. The truth of that accusation cut through his heart like a knife. “No… Yes… I don’t know.”

There was a sigh from Crowley. “If I let go,” he said, “are you going to disappear?”

A minute ago, the answer would have been an indisputable Yes. Running away meant saving Crowley from having to deal with Aziraphale’s problems. But the pressure of Crowley’s hand told him that running away was the worst possible thing he could do to Crowley. “No,” he said, “I won’t,” and it wasn’t a lie.

Reluctantly, Crowley released him.

Aziraphale was surprised by how quickly he did it. He didn’t think he had earned that level of trust. He rather wished it hadn’t been so quick. He already missed the firm, bracing feel of Crowley’s grip on his body.

“Let’s get out of here,” Crowley said.

But it felt wrong. Dinner couldn’t be permitted to end like this. Aziraphale wouldn’t let this dinner be such a disappointment to Crowley. He was the one who had asked Crowley to secure this table for them. He could do so much better than this. It was the least he could do for Crowley. “No, wait,” Aziraphale said.

This time, it was Aziraphale’s grip that stopped Crowley from rising to leave. Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember doing it, but his hand was now fixed on top of Crowley’s. The demon dipped his chin down at where the hand held him, and then back up to Aziraphale. Tentatively, the demon asked, “Wait for what?”

Aziraphale wiped his eyes, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t wiping the wetness in his eyes away. “Why, we’re not finished here,” Aziraphale declared boldly, clearing his throat as he did so. “We are in the middle of having a lovely dinner. I… I have some things left to say to you. Let me tell you about the book I’ve been reading. I have a lot to say about it. It’s… It’s a happy, funny story. Exactly my kind of story I tend to like, as you so astutely pointed out earlier. Please, save your teasing until the end! If you tease me about every little cutesy thing, we’ll be here all night.”

“Eh?” Crowley was extremely baffled by the change in mood. Or maybe he was impressed, or some combination of baffled and impressed. 

Aziraphale was always so bad at discerning what thoughts were running through the demon’s mind.

Nevertheless, Crowley stayed and listened to Aziraphale talk. He showed no signs of ducking out early. He merely sat there, growing relaxed again, listening.

Regardless, Aziraphale’s hand refused to let go of him. Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to let go, not unless Crowley asked him to, which he didn’t. Aziraphale didn’t care a lick if it was an extraordinarily intimate thing to do. He didn’t know how else to communicate how much he genuinely appreciated Crowley’s company. Please, he thought to himself, let Crowley feel the tiniest sliver of how glad I am to be here with him. 

Crowley’s hand remained limp under his. But, to Aziraphale, he seemed happy again, and that was more than enough. Even if it was only conversation, Aziraphale was just so happy to give him something.

* * *

Crowley was absolutely certain that he was going to spontaneously combust in a glorious display of hellfire, any second now.

Aziraphale held his hand through most of the rest of dinner. He would let go of Crowley in order to treat himself to another piece of ravioli, only to bring his hand back down onto Crowley’s waiting and unmoving hand without hesitating. Aziraphale held hands on the way out of the restaurant, too, and on the way back to Crowley’s flat. It was blissfully wonderful. Aziraphale’s care and affection felt so good.

It was also tantalising to the utmost. It made Crowley horribly greedy for more. Was Aziraphale being a tantalising bastard on purpose? It wasn’t impossible.

Crowley wasn’t returning the angel’s touchy gesture. It’s not that he didn’t want to. The truth was, he was afraid of messing it up. He thought his involvement might dirty it, somehow, make it less sweet and pure. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to matter that his fingers remained pathetically limp.

When they were walking down the street, Aziraphale’s hand released for one more moment, much to Crowley’s chagrin. However, it quickly wrapped itself around his wrist instead, in such a way that prevented Crowley from returning the hand-holding gesture even if the demon wanted to. Crowley wondered if that gesture meant something. It did make Crowley feel a little better about the lack of reciprocity on his part, anyway. He didn’t have to worry about not holding Aziraphale’s hand back. He was just free to enjoy the touch he was being given.

The kind feel of Aziraphale’s hand was so distracting, in fact, that Crowley had forgotten all about Aziraphale episode of anxiety at the Ritz. Until just now, that is. What had that been about? Well, he was determined not to forget again. Something heavy was definitely weighing on Aziraphale’s mind.

“Thank you again,” Aziraphale said. “For inviting me here.”

Crowley blinked. His vision came back into focus. They were walking into his flat now. He blamed his lack of awareness on the buzz from the wine. “‘S no problem,” he said.

“It means a lot to me.”

“I said it’s no problem,” Crowley said emphatically. At this rate, he would never be able to convince headstrong Aziraphale that the angel was honestly welcome here.

Now that they were home from dinner, this was generally the moment when Crowley went to find them some more alcohol, or sank into the sofa in front of the television, or something like that. However, there was a spectacular hand on his wrist right now. Wine and television, undoubtedly great things in their own rights, were still inferior to the physical sensation of Aziraphale caring about him this much.

“Why don’t we see how your plants are doing?” Aziraphale said.

It wasn’t first-class stalling, but at least it was stalling, and Crowley was glad to find out that he wasn’t the only one who didn't want the physical contact to end. “Fine. They’re not children, though,” he complained, despite himself, because he wanted to be cool about being dragged around by Aziraphale. “They don’t need minding.”

“I just want to take a look at them. They are quite amazing. They are always perfectly green.”

Aziraphale left his book bag near the door, next to the shoes and jackets that they removed, an act which unfortunately required a brief but painful separation. The angel pulled Crowley into the hall where Crowley’s army of plant soldiers stood at perpetual attention. Crowley eyed them sharply. As long as Aziraphale was around, Crowley didn’t threaten them. He didn’t need to. He simply culled the leaves that had gone soft as soon as Aziraphale went out. The plants had understood very quickly that the addition of Aziraphale’s presence meant nothing.

Except, that wasn’t entirely true. The plants did get something new, a point that Aziraphale demonstrated right now. “They are very beautiful,” he said. “You really must take excellent care of them, Crowley.” He stroked the stark-green leaf of one especially successful specimen.

The sight of Aziraphale caressing his plants set off a bomb of jealousy in Crowley’s chest. “Stop that!” he shouted. Why should his Someone-forsaken plants get to have what he couldn’t?

Aziraphale jumped in fright. “Ah? What?” He left the plant alone, much to the plant’s dismay. Aziraphale turned two sad puppy-dog eyes onto Crowley. “I am sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

Crowley groaned. He couldn’t possibly explain his envy of his plants to Aziraphale. “No, just don’t pet them,” he said. “They aren’t dogs.”

“But…” Aziraphale’s brow knitted together. “Er, all right, if you wish.”

This was disgraceful. Crowley wasn’t proud of himself. He didn’t like that he was acting as childishly as this. It was uncool of him. He was being thoroughly ruined by his longing for the affectionate softness of his angel, and it was screwing everything up.

“Um, let’s go do something else,” Aziraphale said.

“‘Kay,” Crowley said. “What do you want to do?”

“I was about to ask you that.”

Crowley looked off to the side. “I like this fine,” he muttered.

Aziraphale didn’t pretend to misunderstand what Crowley meant. “Really?” he said. “You must forgive me for being a little surprised. I would have thought… You mean to say, it doesn’t bother you?

Crowley retorted cheekily, “What, you think I’ve just been suffering through you holding my hand for the last half hour?”

“Oh, I, um.” The angel was at a loss for words.

Crowley mentally kicked himself. He was so bad at this. He gave it another shot and answered more directly. “No, angel. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale sighed. “Thank goodness.”

That was an interesting remark from Aziraphale. “You sound… relieved.”

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale laughed nervously. “Yes, I am very relieved. I'll admit, I was afraid you’d find it too… soft.”

Crowley shook his head. “No, I think it’s—” There was a wall of shame inside of him, blocking him from finishing that sentence. He wasn’t supposed to like soft things. It was not only lame but also risky. Aziraphale might not feel the same way as him. Aziraphale might be disgusted by the idea of touching so dangerous and unlovable a being in so gentle a manner. That rejection would be misery to Crowley.

But, his needy mind argued back at him, hadn’t Aziraphale been holding his hand this whole time? There hadn’t been rejection yet. Couldn’t Crowley let himself have what Aziraphale had already freely given him?

Crowley directed his bare-faced admission to his plants. “It’s cute,” he snapped. “I like it.” His throat half-strangled his own voice. There. He had said it. He had admitted to liking Aziraphale’s cute gestures. If he was going to get a heart attack from all the panic pumping through him right now, then there was nothing for it but to let it happen. And, he realised belatedly, in front of his plants! Damn it! The plants had seen him be weak. That was a mistake. He hadn’t been thinking of that. He would have to drill it out of them tomorrow.

“I… I… I have an idea!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“What are you talking about?” Crowley could feel that Aziraphale was, suddenly and inexplicably, practically bouncing on his own feet.

“Come! Come!”

As if swept up by a force of nature, Crowley was brought to the sofa in front of the flat-screen television. First, Aziraphale grabbed one of the two remotes, and fiddled with the buttons, only to discover that the buttons did nothing.

“Wrong remote for turning it on,” Crowley heard himself say from somewhere outside of his own body. “Use the other one.”

Aziraphale huffed. “Why must there be more than one remote for a single television set? It’s irritating.”

“Some of my finest work,” Crowley said, though his heart was throbbing too hard in his chest for him to say it with his usual pride. “Right up there with getting the audio jack taken off of some smartphones.” 

Aziraphale blessed him with a gaze of long-suffering fondness, which didn’t help Crowley’s spiking heart rate in the slightest. Then Aziraphale very pointedly put the first remote back on the sofa chair arm where he’d found it and recovered the other remote from the corner of the sofa seat. He was not technologically savvy by any stretch of the imagination, but he didn’t try anything complicated with the device. He simply switched the television to the first cartoon station that he could find. The programme was evidently about animated horses in dresses. “Is this station all right?”

Cartoons? “Yeah, sure,” Crowley said, wondering if it at all mattered.

“Good.” Aziraphale sat down on the sofa, pulling Crowley down with him, his hand still wrapped around Crowley’s thin wrist.

Crowley took a deep breath through his nose. Calm down. Don’t panic. This was okay. Television was good. Cartoons were cool, or at least some of them were. He hadn’t had a heart attack yet, and Aziraphale hadn’t rejected him. Everything was okay. Everything would be okay—

Aziraphale released Crowley’s wrist, in order to grab Crowley’s closest shoulder and gently tugged it down to his own chest. “Come on,” he said, “lie against me.”

All breath was knocked cleanly out of Crowley. “What?” he rasped wildly.

“Rest your head on my shoulder. Like this. Then you can stretch your legs the other way. And, here, hold your hands up, and…” Once Crowley’s back was to Aziraphale’s chest, he held each of Crowley’s hands with his own. “There! Now I can hold both of your hands in mine.” Aziraphale held Crowley’s hands against Crowley’s chest. “Aren’t I clever?”

Crowley was so alarmed that he was sure he was going to discorporate. He would have bet good money on it. He had been corralled by Aziraphale’s sweet warmth on all sides. The fingers covering his own were deliciously soft to the touch. The stomach against his back was like a pillow that welcomed him and caressed him all at once. He wanted to moan out loud. He was being showered with so much tenderness, and care, and the strongest kind of affection that he had ever felt. It was sinfully good. He was terrified.

“Oh! That’s right! How could I let this slip my mind?” Aziraphale briefly let go of Crowley’s hands, which stayed where they were, petrified. Aziraphale gently removed the sunglasses from Crowley’s eyes and set them on the sofa arm. “There, that’s better. No need for these.” He recaptured Crowley’s frozen hands. “Comfy?”

It was too much. Crowley was in Heaven. Or Hell. Paradise? Damn it, whatever! He was entirely overwhelmed by how comfortable he was. Gradually, like a sweet lullaby, the comfort of Aziraphale’s body pulled him out of his initial reaction of terror and into a state of pure bliss. At least Aziraphale didn’t have to see the uncontainable pleasure that was probably written all over Crowley’s face. It would have given Crowley away.

“If you don’t like this cartoon, I can pick another one. Just because you like some cute things doesn’t mean you like them all.”

Crowley couldn’t help but bark an artless laugh. He couldn’t have cared less about the cartoon. “Now… you think I like cute things in general?” he croaked.

“I should have understood it from what you were saying at the bookshop. You said it yourself. There’s nothing wrong with liking cute things, like holding hands. Well, I get it now. You were talking about yourself, too. But you don’t have to hide it from me. You can enjoy whatever cute things you like with me. I promise that I won’t be cruel about it!”

So much kindness, but so misplaced. Crowley shook his head. The heat of the body behind him lured him into sinking deeper into Aziraphale’s embrace. “Oh, angel, how can you be so right, and yet so wrong?”

“How can that be? Ha! That’s impossible.” Aziraphale dared him to respond. He was so confident that he was right in his erroneous conclusion. “Everything points to it. You like hand-holding, don’t you?”

It wasn’t easy for Crowley to hear that truth said out loud, and with such audacity. It was a truth wrapped in a thousand self-deprecating thoughts. “Hey, I’ve got nothing against rainbows, sunshine, or horses in dresses, but…” He frowned. He tried to think of what else he could get away with saying, but he simply couldn’t think of anything that he could live with.

He didn’t feel like arguing the point, anyway. He was too busy luxuriating in this gifted sea of kindness and acceptance. He still wasn’t reciprocating any of Aziraphale’s attention, but one terribly selfish thing he did was to bring Aziraphale’s hands just a teeny, tiny bit closer to his own chest.

“My dear, Is it really just the hand-holding?” Aziraphale whispered, confused.

Crowley didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer. He closed his eyes. He let himself be lulled by the cycle of Aziraphale’s breathing, and by the singing of the cartoon horses. He wanted to enjoy this intense feeling of comfort for as long as possible.

Aziraphale made no indication of being bothered. The grip of the two angelic hands continued strong, pressing gentle skin onto his own. Those two hands might as well have been cradling Crowley’s own heart. Protecting him, nurturing him, reassuring him that he was worth something.

Nevertheless, in Crowley’s mind, he could not shake the image of Aziraphale on the other side of the dinner table at the Ritz, cursing and clutching his own head and on the brink of crying. It had torn Crowley apart to see Aziraphale so miserable. But Crowley wasn’t worried. Starting now, It was only a matter of time. Crowley would find out what Aziraphale was hiding from him. He would take that pain away from Aziraphale if it killed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is excited by his discovery of Crowley's predilection for holding hands, and is looking forward to exploring it. What Aziraphale doesn't realise, however, is that Crowley is very determined to find out what dark secret Aziraphale is hiding from him.

Aziraphale was giddy. He was floating on clouds of scatterbrained delight. He had finally found something that he could give Crowley. No one could have guessed that it would be so simple a thing as hand-holding. 

Best of all, he had smoothed over the incident of his loss of self-control at the Ritz. He’d proved himself to be a good friend to Crowley after all. Crowley would forget all about it. All things considered, Aziraphale was sitting pretty.

He had fully expected Crowley to fall asleep on him in front of the television. That might have even happened briefly, but if it had, then Crowley had woken up again, because they’d only sat on the sofa for three and a half short hours. Honestly, It was Aziraphale’s fault. He had made the error of getting up to go fetch a book once the cute cartoons gave way to the adult cartoon block. By the time he’d returned to the sofa, Crowley was on his feet, wishing him goodnight and retiring upstairs for the evening.

Aziraphale wished him goodnight. What he really wanted to do was to ask if he could hold Crowley’s hands in his bed, too. However, he supposed Crowley might want some time to himself. So he didn’t push his luck.

He spent the rest of the night trying to read his book. Sometimes, he succeeded in paying enough attention to make it through a full paragraph or two. At other times, he thought back to what it was like to hold Crowley on the sofa. It was a very innocent thing, but it had been very pleasant. Moreover, it was a pleasant surprise to learn that Crowley enjoyed that kind of agreeable intimacy. From what Aziraphale could tell, Crowley had enjoyed it a great deal, even if he had seemed a bit lost about how to return the gesture. Aziraphale hadn’t minded, though. He had liked doing it for Crowley. It was nice. Plus, it made Aziraphale feel useful. They ought to do things like that together more often.

Morning came slowly. Aziraphale didn’t realise how slowly time was moving until he was looking at the clock in the kitchen for the fifth time in the same hour. He was too excited to see Crowley again. He tingled all over at the thought of grabbing Crowley’s hands when he said good morning to him. Aziraphale would be sure to squeeze them extra tightly. How happy would Crowley be, if he did that? He couldn’t wait to find out.

The wait took forever. The sun even rose in the sky, and still, Crowley did not make an appearance. Another hour, then another, and Aziraphale remained alone in the flat’s living room.

At long last, the noise of sleepy steps reached his ears.

Biting his lip expectantly, Aziraphale flew out of his chair to greet the flat’s primary tenant.

Every time Crowley came downstairs when Aziraphale was staying over, the demon was already dressed and perfectly groomed, except that his jacket and glasses might be missing in action. This time was no exception. Crowley had always made more of an effort to maintain a stylish appearance than Aziraphale, and the results showed. He made a lean, handsome picture. Although, Aziraphale would have been just as happy to see him even if he looked like dreary rubbish.

Aziraphale’s excitement grew with every step forward. “Good morning, Crowley!”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley greeted suavely.

Going for broke, Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s nearest hand.

Crowley coolly raised his hand up, out of reach, smiling wickedly.

Aziraphale froze.

“Tut tut tut,” Crowley lowered his hand and wagged his finger. “That was an obvious move. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

“What?” He tried and failed to read any hint from Crowley’s expertly schooled face. “Why not?”

“Simple. If I let you do that, I might get distracted again,” Crowley said. “I can’t afford to let that happen. I still haven’t figured out what got you so worked up at dinner last night.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. Crowley remembered that? Of all the things he had anticipated this morning, this savage combination of kindness and barbarism was nowhere on the schedule.

“Are you going to come quietly,” Crowley said lowly, “and tell me what that was about? Or will you see how long you can go without the hands?”

“What… did you just say?” Against his better judgement, Aziraphale laughed. Even though this little act of Crowley’s was at Aziraphale’s expense, it was fiercely charming. “Goodness, Crowley, you are too much. What manner of threat is that? I thought you were the one who enjoyed holding hands?”

“I won’t deny it,” Crowley said, laughing a little himself. “But you’re the one who just came running up to me to throw your hands at me. That gives me leverage.”

“My word! You are terrible.”

“I’m resourceful.”

Aziraphale wouldn’t take this lying down. “I bet,” he dared to say, beaming confidently, “that I could go far longer without holding hands than you, my dear.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. “That doesn’t sound very nice of you, though. Aren’t you supposed to be the nice one?”

“It’s all an act,” Aziraphale retorted facetiously. “I’m secretly a wicked angel.”

“Hm. I wonder,” Crowley said slowly, letting the refreshingly mirthful mood slide into something more sombre, “how much of that is true?”

Aziraphale’s own smile fell flat. 

The air around them grew still.

Crowley crossed his arms. “Tell me what had you so bothered last night, angel.”

“It’s…” Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to do. Honesty was not an option. He felt that he should be doing something with his idle hands, instead of letting them tremble like they were doing. So he scratched the back of his neck. “It was nothing.”

“Try again.”

“I must have felt a little unwell.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re not much of a liar?” Crowley said. “Not that it’s a bad thing. It certainly works out well in my favour, most of the time.”

Aziraphale was trapped. He had nothing left to say. He couldn’t tell Crowley that he had been fantasising about him. If Crowley knew how perverse his angel was, Crowley would be revolted. Aziraphale might not be welcome to come over anymore. He might lose their friendship. It was unthinkable. Their friendship was everything to Aziraphale. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

“Nothing you could say would make that happen.”

“That’s not true. I lost you once, in the past,” Aziraphale said. “When I didn’t give you the holy water.” He didn’t actually want to bring that up. He was merely taking refuge in bringing up past history. It was a cowardly, desperate move. Anything was better than Crowley finding out about Aziraphale’s worst secret.

Crowley was too clever to be deterred. “And yet, here we are. A lot of good stuff must have happened since then, don’t you think? You did give holy water to me, eventually, and I’ll never forget how it felt to get that particular gift from you.” He came closer to Aziraphale, and even patted his shoulder in a manly way, studying Aziraphale as if he were abruptly wearing a new outfit. “It seems like, no matter what I do, I keep coming back to you. Time and time again.”

Surprised and pleased, Aziraphale made to take that hand in his own.

Crowley rapidly drew back.

Aziraphale gasped. At that moment, he hated himself. Just by moving his own hand, he had compelled Crowley to withdraw. He shouldn’t have moved. 

“Didn’t I say?” Crowley was cool as ice. “I’m not letting you distract me.”

There was no way that Aziraphale could endure this. “This… This isn’t fair…”

“So you say, but is it fair that I got to see you in literal anguish last night, and couldn’t do a damn thing about it?”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly. Crowley was right. That wasn’t fair to him. Aziraphale was ashamed to have put his friend in that position.

“I didn’t think so.” Crowley patted Aziraphale’s shoulder again, for no reason. At least, Crowley probably had a reason for doing that, but Aziraphale didn’t know what it was. 

In any case, Aziraphale didn’t rise to the bait this time. With effort, he kept his arms at his sides. 

Crowley grinned at the way Aziraphale bristled. “Difficult, isn’t it? Still think you can last longer than me?”

But Aziraphale was silent. Crowley was still treating this like a game. He didn’t understand how serious this was. He couldn’t know that Aziraphale’s true desires were too awful. The angel had no choice but to be silent about them forever, but his silence was hurting Crowley, too. His whole existence was one big mistake, one big pain in Crowley’s side. Aziraphale looked down at his socks.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale shook his head. He closed his eyes tightly. He was trapped, plain and simple. If Aziraphale confessed that, right now, being forced to hold his arms at his sides while Crowley touched him was stirring a pleasant, sultry heat in his lower body, Crowley would hate him. Aziraphale hated himself for it. He loved living with Crowley. He loved talking to him, and eating with him, and watching television with him. Crowley was the most interesting being in all of existence. Crowley was the kindest, too.

“Angel?” There was real fear in Crowley’s voice. “Hey.”

When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he discovered that he was crying. “Crowley,” he wept, locking gazes with horrified yellow eyes, “I am sorry. I am so very sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

Crowley grabbed both of Aziraphale’s shoulders, with the force of twenty men. “Don’t say that,” Crowley hissed. Clearly, Crowley still didn’t understand.

“I’m going to lose you. You’re going to hate me when I tell you.” Aziraphale’s arms were dead at his sides. “But if I keep this secret any longer, you’ll still hate me. Why do I have to cause you pain like this? You don’t deserve it. You’ve only ever been good to me.”

“Aziraphale, you idiot,” Crowley said sharply. “Don’t call me good. I’m not good. I’m a vile, selfish bastard. Calling me good is just begging me to kick your arse. And don’t be stupid, you’re not hurting anybody. You’re bloody Aziraphale. You invented being nice. If anything… If anything, I’m the one who can’t deserve you.”

Aziraphale opened his lips to tell Crowley the truth. But it wouldn’t get past his throat. The mountain of shame sitting on top of it was too great. He couldn’t overcome it in such a short amount of time. He could only chip away at the tiniest corner of his pile of secrets. “The truth is… I… I…”

Crowley held his breath.

“I…” The second wave of tears flowed down. Then, a small, frightened whisper. “I like holding still for you like this.”

* * *

Crowley’s ears must have been broken. That was Aziraphale’s big secret? He liked to hold his arms still at his side? Wasn’t that absurdly random? Crowley would have thought that Aziraphale didn’t like this no-touching-allowed treatment at all.

This was a deep puzzle. Crowley overclocked his brain, thinking furiously about what Aziraphale had worked so hard to say.

Not sure if he was allowed to, Crowley carefully wiped the tears from Aziraphale’s eyes with his thumbs. 

Aziraphale looked at him, startled, as if he were shocked that Crowley could still bear to be around him at him after his heartfelt confession.

But what did the confession mean? Crowley’s brain threw words and images around, trying to get a complete picture together. Aziraphale had said he was holding still for Crowley. For Crowley? So, Aziraphale was saying he liked to do things for Crowley. But Crowley knew that already about the angel. The angel was far too nice.

Aziraphale still stood there, nervous, waiting for the metaphorical pin to drop.

But Crowley didn’t have enough information to figure it out, did he? His brain was grasping at straws. It wasn’t just that Aziraphale was holding his arms at his side to make Crowley happy. Crowley had given him essentially no choice in the matter. If Aziraphale raised his arms to touch Crowley, then Crowley would withdraw. It was simple as that. So, maybe Aziraphale was saying that he enjoyed being manipulated by Crowley. But that answer sat so uncomfortably with Crowley that he tossed it out.

The angel managed to stop crying. It seemed like he was making an effort to regain his lost strength, to bring himself back to a place where he could be helpful. But his soft, gentle eyes remained red from his tears.

Crowley tried again. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t necessarily the case that Aziraphale liked being manipulated by Crowley. Maybe the important part wasn’t just in holding still, but the fact the Crowley had the freedom to pat his shoulders while Aziraphale had to stand still. In that case, it wasn’t really that Aziraphale was being manipulated into doing something. It was more like that Aziraphale could do nothing while Crowley could do whatever he wanted. Aziraphale was happy to let himself be Crowley’s plaything—oh. Oh.

Aziraphale had finally regained his composure, and was saying, “I’m sorry—”

But Crowley laughed so boisterously that Aziraphale stopped talking. Crowley let the angel go, clapped his own hands in delight, and paced around the room, cackling in vicious delight and relief at unravelling his own stupidity. And he had fancied himself a first-rate demon? What a joke. An entry-level tempter could have solved this problem faster than he had. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” He spun back to Aziraphale. “Oh, I’ve got you now, you impossible angel.” He grinned maniacally. “You are royally fucked.”

Aziraphale hesitated. “What do you…?”

Crowley wasn’t a patient demon. Now that he had the answer, he was going to abuse it to within an inch of its life. He grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders again and leaned forward. “I’m going to shove you against the wall now,” Crowley murmured matter-of-factly. “Any objections?”

Aziraphale’s eyes were as big and round as saucers. Without looking away from Crowley, he shook his head in the most minute angle.

“Good.” Then, Crowley shoved Aziraphale to the wall. It wasn’t really a shove; he wasn’t interested in hurting his dearest friend, after all. He pushed him in just the right way so that the collision was a soft one. Crowley prided himself on this kind of attention to details. Bringing all of his prowess as a tempter to bear, he whispered into Aziraphale’s ear. “I’m going to ask you three questions now,” he said. “To make sure I’ve got my answers right. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is all I’m looking for. I expect you to answer each one. I’ll be very pleased if you do.”

“O-Okay.” It wasn’t a lot, but it was plenty.

“Your secret,” Crowley said, “is that you want me to desire you.”

Aziraphale flinched bodily.

“Yes, or no, angel?”

Aziraphale struggled to breathe.

It pulled at Crowley’s heart to see. It was obvious, now, why Aziraphale had been in so much distress. Crowley had been so blind. He had had no idea Aziraphale had felt this way. But he stayed in character. “Can’t even answer the first question, huh? Too bad. Let me ask you the next one. Do you desire me?”

A battle was raging inside of the angel. “I’m sorry,” Aziraphale panted out, “I’m very—”

“I’ll count that as a ‘yes’,” Crowley said with deliberate force. “One last question. What you want most of all is to be desired by a big, bad, naughty demon. You want to be made into a demon’s plaything. Well, I can be that demon for you, if it pleases you. I can make myself nasty for you. How does that sound, angel?”

Aziraphale’s humiliated face said it all.

All signs pointed to that conclusion. That was what Aziraphale’s talk the other day, about valuing him as a person rather than as a demon, had been all about. Aziraphale must have been guilty about his hidden desire. He had been trying to convince himself to stop being attracted to Crowley. But Crowley was more than willing to be of service to the person who was dearest to him. “I’m right, right? It’s okay if I am. You don’t have to hide the truth from me. I’ll show you what an evil demon I can be. I’ll be everything you want me to be.”

But Aziraphale cried, “No!”

Crowley paused. “What?” Had he been wrong? “No?”

“Not a… big, bad demon… no. None of that. Please.” Aziraphale’s voice rapidly went back to being small and frightened. It made Crowley suffer an instinctive urge to protect the angel at all costs. 

“No?”

“No… Not any demon. Just you.”

“Me?” Crowley didn’t understand. Or, rather, his low sense of self-worth fought against his understanding. It beat him why Aziraphale would desire him specifically. He didn’t have much going on for himself that could appeal to such a good, sweet angel.

“Just you, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “Just… my best friend.”

Crowley couldn’t believe it. That was impossible. Too good to be true.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale raised his hands, as if to hold onto Crowley, but remembered at the last moment that he wasn’t supposed to at the last second, and lowered them again. Seeing Aziraphale trust him that much both charmed and infuriated Crowley. “Please, don’t put on a character for me. I don’t want you to change. Your company is so very dear to me. You’re my friend. I like to be with the real you. Not some bad, evil demon. Just you.” He smiled a tiny, fragile smile. “You had the rest of it correct.”

Crowley stared long and hard at Aziraphale.

“Thank you, Crowley, for helping me say what I was too afraid to say. I see now that I was mistaken about you leaving me. On the contrary, you have figured me out, and are still being so generous to me. This conversation doesn’t have to go any further. If you don’t genuinely share these particular feelings, my dear, then that’s all right. They certainly came out of nowhere, didn’t they? I apologise for the trouble they caused. What matters is that I won’t hurt you by keeping secrets anymore, and you haven’t left me yet. For that, I am unspeakably happy. I am content, I assure you.”

Crowley couldn’t remember ever feeling as happy as this. Dreamily, Crowley caressed the smooth skin of Aziraphale’s chin.

Aziraphale couldn’t look away from him. Neither of them could look away.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Crowley said.

It was a good thing that Crowley had pinned Aziraphale against the wall. He would have fallen otherwise. “Ah?” Aziraphale yelped. “Ah, kiss me, you said?”

Crowley tilted his head. “You not into kissing?”

“Er, um,” Aziraphale stammered and looked around the room. It was adorable. It made Crowley want to kiss him even more. “That, um, that is to say, you might find me a disappointment in that area. I’m not very sure about the process, exactly. I probably wouldn’t do it right—”

Crowley ran a finger over Aziraphale’s lips, hushing him. “Then do nothing and let me run the show,” Crowley said. “I know everything there is to know about kissing.” For once, Crowley was glad to be so well-studied in the seduction process. He finally had a good use for that knowledge.

Aziraphale crinkled his eyes at Crowley’s lack of modesty, but he didn’t have much time to waste thinking about that.

In no time at all, Crowley was gently parting Aziraphale’s lips a fraction with the pad of his thumb. He leaned in, tilted his head to just the right angle, and pressed his own lips to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale was instantly putty underneath him. Crowley took his time, savouring the novelty of the feel of his angel's lips on his own. The kiss was sensual, yet mostly chaste. Crowley didn’t need to make a kiss dirty in order to make it decadent. He expertly and smoothly applied pressure in all the right places. He went slowly and predictably, in order to not frighten the angel. 

Aziraphale wasn’t frightened. His mouth was welcoming and submissive. He was desperate to accept all of the slow, lingering attention that Crowley shared with him. Despite the fact that the kiss was not deep, a shuddering moan escaped the angel. It really did a number on Crowley’s ego. 

With a reminder to himself that Aziraphale liked to take things slowly, Crowley pulled away.

Aziraphale was breathing deeply. He looked positively ruined by that single kiss. 

Crowley grinned with self-satisfaction. He had done this to Aziraphale. A sense of raw power intermingled with the beating of his devoted heart. He could definitely see himself making a habit of this.

“What should I… do now?”

Crowley gave the question some thought. “Only one thing to do,” he said. “I think you’ve earned it.” He took a full step back, and nonchalantly held out his hand.

The angel grabbed it without delay.

* * *

Aziraphale ended up spending the day in the bookshop reliving that kiss. After passing an otherwise pleasant and innocent morning at the flat, during which a glowing Aziraphale had held Crowley’s hand a lot and Crowley hadn’t complained about it, Aziraphale had gone to his shop. He wanted to work, and to think. It turned out he couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley’s dashing face, sharp jaw, and skilled mouth. 

By all appearances, the pleasure of the experience hadn’t been one-sided. Crowley must have enjoyed sharing the intimacy with him, too. It was a mystery what Crowley had got out of kissing Aziraphale, but perhaps Crowley would enjoy kissing anybody. In any case, Aziraphale hoped Crowley would share even more.

He was in the middle of paying the bookshop’s utility bill when he realised that Crowley had given no indication of how much further Crowley was willing to take this new aspect of their relationship. It was possible that kissing was the end of the line, though even Aziraphale could recognise that it was unlikely. In any case, Aziraphale wasn’t worried. If he was going to be rejected for being disgusting, he would have been by now. His selfish desires hadn’t been thrown back in his face. So he was in the clear.

Except, he thought suddenly, he hadn’t told Crowley about the kinky fantasies. So Crowley could still reject him for that later.

The thought was depressing. Aziraphale slapped his face and groaned into his palms. He had totally neglected to mention any of that to Crowley. He would have to tell Crowley sooner or later.

But even if Crowley was turned off by those particular desires, Aziraphale reminded himself, everything would be okay. Against all odds, Crowley had accepted him and his perversity. At least, Aziraphale thought that he had. Crowley certainly hadn’t rejected him. It was unclear where they stood exactly, but wherever it was, it was definitely a good place. A wonderful, exciting new place. A place where Crowey was the masterful expert, and Aziraphale was nothing but a newly invited guest. 

Aziraphale closed his shop early and made his way directly to Crowley’s. 

Crowley had long since given him a key to the flat, but Aziraphale didn’t feel right barging in without announcing himself first. He rang the buzzer, counted out a few seconds, and opened the door.

The lights were dimmed—dimmable lights being one of many modern trends that Crowley prided himself on—so Aziraphale switched them all the way on. At first glance, the flat was empty. The windows were curtained, blocking out the afternoon sunlight. The plants were still around, sure, but there was no drop-dead gorgeous demon with fashionable clothes and a popular haircut.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called but got no answer. He dug out his mobile from his jacket pocket and checked to see if he might have missed a message from Crowley, and found nothing. A grey cloud of worry formed inside Aziraphale’s head. After a brief struggle with his mobile’s interface, he came to Crowley’s number, and rang it.

The noise of Crowley’s ringtone rang from the upstairs.

Relieved, Aziraphale cancelled the call. Crowley was asleep. There was nothing Aziraphale could do about that. He was a little disappointed, sure, but it was no big deal. He would just come back later.

The lights in the ceiling above him went dim again.

Aziraphale looked up, confused. He looked back to the switchplate. The dimming slider had fallen back down on its own accord. Aziraphale moved to turn the lights on again.

“Leave it where it is, angel.”

Aziraphale turned back around and was surprised to see that Crowley standing very near to him. “Crowley?” The demon looked a little different. The clothes were more relaxed than normal. The hair, on the other hand, was as meticulously styled as always. 

“Dim lights are good for the mood,” Crowley said. “Take a seat. And lose the shoes.”

Aziraphale should have asked what this was all about. Instead, he asked, “Take a seat where?”

Two thin hands spread themselves wide, slowly. Everything about Crowley’s movements seemed slowed down at present. “Anywhere you like,” Crowley drawled. “Somewhere comfortable. And leave the coat.”

Aziraphale wasn’t thrilled to be choosing a seat for purposes unknown, but at least it wasn’t a complicated decision. There wasn’t a good seat near the entrance, so he chose the nearby armchair in the living room. After he had hung up his coat, he made his way to the armchair and sat down, uncertainly, sitting upright as always, feeling Crowley’s gaze never leaving him.

Crowley followed him. He checked out the width of the seat. “Yeah, that’ll do.”

Butterflies did somersaults in Aziraphale’s stomach. “For what, may I ask?”

“All you gotta do is wait there,” Crowley said. Then he left to the kitchen.

Aziraphale clenched and unclenched his fists. He couldn’t help being excited, and also nervous. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Crowley. He trusted Crowley completely. Rather, Aziraphale was nervous that, whatever strange thing Crowley had going right now, he was going to accidentally ruin it somehow. 

Crowley placed about a million lit candles around the room. Upon recounting, it was only twenty. “Good for the mood,” was all he said when Aziraphale looked questioningly at him.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “The mood for… what?”

Crowley smirked lazily. “Do you really have to ask?” He went back to the kitchen.

Aziraphale’s mouth went dry. Goodness. He knew what this was, and he knew that he wasn’t ready for this. He absolutely, positively, definitely wasn’t ready for this. He would tell Crowley as much. As soon as Crowley stopped doing whatever nonsense he was doing and actually talked to Aziraphale, Aziraphale would let him know that this was too much, too fast.

When Crowley came back, though, Aziraphale caught a deep sniff of Crowley’s vigorous cologne. And suddenly, all Aziraphale wanted was to stay exactly where he was.

“So, angel,” Crowley said slowly. “How about it. Can I tempt you to,” he smirked, “to a little demon-style fun?”

A shudder passed through Aziraphale. He tried to laugh it off. “Ah, you always did know how to tempt me,” he said lightly, hoping that would suffice. 

His evasive answer earned him a shake of the head. “Sorry, angel. I’m gonna need you to be more direct. Any flag that isn’t a solid green one is a solid red one. Gotta make sure you’re one hundred per cent on board with this.” Crowley finger-combined his short hair back and smiled down at Aziraphale. “This is all for you, after all.”

This was surreal. This couldn’t be real. “But why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to, and I do what I want. Tell me what colour the flag is.”

Aziraphale’s heartbeat was loud in his ears. “It’s, it’s a green flag,” he said. “Green, all over. Front and back.”

Crowley chuckled softly. “I like the way you talk, angel.”

Aziraphale’s nails dug into his palms. This was it. Crowley had his permission. Aziraphale didn’t have to worry about anything else, now. Crowley would take care of everything, wouldn’t he? Even so, the furious beating in his chest didn’t let up. “What’s… going to happen?”

Without breaking eye contact with Aziraphale, Crowley undid the top button of his shirt. “You have no idea how good you look right now,” he said. “You look so fucking adorable in those old, bright-coloured clothes of yours.”

Aziraphale blushed. He had no defence to that kind of unadulterated praise. He longed to bury his face in his hands. He wanted to complain, but he wasn’t sure if he should. “Um, is it all right for me… to talk…?”

Crowley snorted. “Why wouldn’t it be? Nothing ever stopped you from talking in my flat before.”

“I mean, right now. During this…” Aziraphale struggled to find a word. “… this act…”

“This is not an act,” Crowley said. “I’m not acting here, angel. You made it very clear this morning that you’re not about the acting. All you want is just me, so just me is what you’ll get.” By now, a few more buttons had been undone. “You do the same. Be yourself. Chat, or whatever.”

Aziraphale was floored. This was genuine Crowley? That dirty talk was genuine Crowley? A heated wave of lust suffused through Aziraphale body. It was so much more natural to suppose that Crowley was running through a practised act of seduction, as any demon might do for his victim. To think of his best friend genuinely seducing him—it was beyond enticing. It was terribly arousing. 

Crowley grinned. “You should see the look on your face. Like you can’t believe that this is real. I guess this means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” He undid the last button of his shirt, and let the undone ends hang loosely on his chest, so that the skin underneath was barely visible. “That makes it mean something to me, too.” He settled one knee to Aziraphale’s side on the chair, and mirrored the action with another knee, bringing himself to sit atop Aziraphale’s lap. Crowley stroked one set of fingers up Aziraphale’s arm, along his clothed bicep and shoulder, up to stroke the bare skin of the neck that peeked out from under Aziraphale’s crisp shirt collar. “Just you wait, angel. I am gonna blow your mind.”

Aziraphale whimpered. The fingers on his neck felt terribly good. They didn’t go too high up—Crowley must have known that Aziraphale was a smidge ticklish—but it didn’t matter. Crowley knew exactly how to touch in just the right way. “What’s… going to happen?” he repeated.

“Very little is going to happen.” Crowley ran his finger tenderly under Aziraphale’s ear, causing a cascade of sparks along the angel’s skin. “But it won’t feel like very little. I’m just that good.” He looked down, and noticed that Aziraphale’s hands, not knowing what to do with themselves, gripped the fabric of the armchair. Gently, he coaxed the hands to rise up to the fabric about his hips instead. “Hold onto me.”

Aziraphale was glad to do as he was told.

Crowley brought his attention back to Aziraphale’s neck. He deftly undid the bowtie around Aziraphale’s collar, and undid the topmost buttons of the shirt. “There,” he murmured slyly, “isn’t that more comfortable? You wear this bowtie all the time. It’s cute, but that must not feel too good on your neck. Let me make it feel better for you.” He reverently rubbed the palm of his hand along the freed skin of Aziraphale’s lower neck.

Aziraphale gasped. The sharp sensations of relief and pleasure were amazing. 

Crowley hummed appreciatively. He put both hands to work, gently massaging the skin where the bowtie had been. 

A moan got caught in Aziraphale’s throat. It embarrassed him. He tried to suppress it.

Of course, Crowley noticed. “No holding back on me,” he said. “Come on. Whine for me, angel.” He stretched his fingers and thumb to rub generously along the front and back of Aziraphale’s neck. 

Pleasure ran up his spine in hot streaks. Aziraphale didn’t stop his moan this time. “Crowley…” he gasped. “Oh, that feels…“ 

“Glad to be of service.” Crowley bent his head down and licked hot stripes along the crevices of Aziraphale’s neck. 

Aziraphale jerked in surprise as the wonderful intensity of the sensation. He moaned again. “Um, be careful,” he heard himself say. “I’m… sensitive. Please, no… no biting…“

“No biting. Got it.” Crowley said it in a tone that implied he had deduced as much already. He smirked against Aziraphale’s collarbone. “Just leave it to me, angel. I’ll make it so good for you. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

From that heavy, seductive voice, a delicious heat coiled inside of Aziraphale’s abdomen. The trousers around Aziraphale’s legs were getting too tight. “Crowley,” he whimpered, “why are you doing this for me?”

Crowley’s hands travelled over Aziraphale’s clothes, venturing southward until the next access point to skin. His fingers slipped under the bottom of Aziraphale’s shirt and blazer, and trailed up the softness of Aziraphale’s chest. It made Aziraphale feel awfully self-conscious about his unimpressive body—for all of three seconds. “You are so fucking hot like this,” Crowley growled. “I want to run my hands over every inch of you. I could make it happen now, if I wanted. I could make all your clothes disappear in a snap. I could feel your stomach, your hips, your arse, your thighs. I could worship every part of you.”

Aziraphale knew he wasn’t as desirable as that. “Please… be serious…“

“I am bloody serious.” Crowley very, very carefully traced his fingertips around the nub of one of Aziraphale’s pecs underneath the shirt and blazer, making Aziraphale gasp. “How is this, angel? Too sensitive?”

Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath. “That’s… fine… very fine.”

Crowley grinned. “You’re so sexy, you know that?”

Aziraphale whined, “I’m not…”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Crowley stroked over both of Aziraphale’s pecs. Aziraphale shivered and moaned. “Definitely sexy,” Crowley murmured. “I could spend all day doing just this to you.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale panted, “Please, I don’t understand. How can you be so calm?”

Crowley stopped. “Hm? Whaddya mean?”

“For goodness’ sake! You make it look like you do this every day!”

“I must be a natural, then.”

“Aren’t you even a little terrified?”

“No. Are you?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “I’m terrified. I’m afraid you’ll think differently of me after this. I’m afraid things will never be the same between us again.”

Crowley softened. He removed his hands from Aziraphale’s shirt. “No. I won’t think differently of you. You’ll be the same old Aziraphale, a bookseller who doesn’t sell books.” He sat up straighter on Aziraphale’s lap. He made it very clear that he was undoing the very top button of his loose-fitting trousers. “That’s what makes this so much fun. I’m not just seducing anyone, here. I’m seducing the one and only Aziraphale. You say you’re scared? Then let me show you how not-scary this is. Watch me.” Crowley held one hand palm-up, and in the next second, a creamy liquid was miracled into existence onto his palm. He closed his eyes. “Cute, adorable Aziraphale.” He slipped his hand down the front of his own trousers.

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped.

There was a lazy stroking motion against the fabric in the trousers. Pleasure rose like hot smoke to Crowley’s face. “Nice, sssweet Aziraphale…”

Aziraphale was enraptured. Spellbound. His hands remained fixed on Crowley’s hips.

“I want to do this to you.” Crowley balanced himself by holding onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Jussst like this. I want to make you hard until it almost hurtsss, and then stroke you off with my hand. Ssslowly, because I can tell that you’d like it like that. I’d take my time with you, giving you everything you need. I’d make you go mad. I’d make you think of nothing but the feel of my ssslick hand on you. I’d give you more pleasure than you’d know what to do with, and you’d be too fucking kind and good to do anything but take what I give you. Fuck,” he groaned, “I really wish this was you in my hand. I want it to be you ssso bad.”

Aziraphale’s trousers were uncomfortably tight now. He longed for that kind of attention from Crowley. At the same time, his eyes were moist with fondness. He believed that Crowley meant what he said. Crowley’s desire for him was real. Aziraphale was desirable to him.

“Ssstill terrified?” Crowley breathed.

“No,” Aziraphale whispered. 

An expression of smug victory washed over Crowley’s features. “Good.” He stopped stroking himself, and breathed deeply several times, until he was ready to focus on Aziraphale again. “Back to business, then.”

“Wait, what about you?”

But Crowley said, “You’re so hot when you’re considerate.” He stroked down Aziraphale’s chest, admiring the shape of the angel, before arriving at the trousers. He paused when he noticed a tent at the groin of the trousers. He deftly unfastened them, giving Aziraphale some much-needed room. Rather than touch the hot weight that was begging to be touched, however, Crowley moved past it, however, down to explore Aziraphale’s clothed thighs. He felt along their curves, admiring them.

A weak noise escaped Aziraphale. “Crowley… please…”

“I’ll do it for you, if you ask,” Crowley said. “You know I want to. I can give it to you. I’m dying to give it to you.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, embarrassed. “Please,” he begged. “Please.”

“Sure thing, angel. But first…” Crowley’s lips pressed chastely against Aziraphale’s cheek. 

The gentleness of the touch was so surprising that Aziraphale opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Crowley’s smile. It was so beautiful, so welcoming. The soft candlelight suited him wonderfully. “I want to see those pretty eyes of yours,” the demon murmured hungrily, “when I’m rubbing you off.” He skated his hands up the insides of Aziraphale’s thighs, to the thick length that waited there. Slowly and carefully, Crowley finally took hold of him, and began to stroke.

Aziraphale sobbed. “Oh…!“ His head tipped back, and tears fell down his face. His eyes fluttered half-closed. It took every ounce of his being not to simply let them stay closed. He could easily drown in the euphoric feeling flowing through him. “Oh…“ 

Crowley exhaled. “That’s it, angel. Just like that.”

“It feels so good…”

“It’ll only get better after this, too,” Crowley said. “This is only the beginning. This only skims the surface of the kind of pleasure I’m gonna make you feel.”

The promise of more to come in the future was more than Aziraphale could process. He couldn’t imagine there could be anything better than this. “It’s so good, Crowley… It’s…”

“Makes you wonder how the humans ever get anything done, doesn’t it?” Crowley said. Then he seemed to consider his own words, and there was a dangerous glint in his dazzling yellow eyes. “Not that any of one them is as good as me. No one can take better care of you than I can. I’ll ruin you for anyone else. I’ll bring every fantasy you have to life, and I’ll make each one loads better than you ever imagined it could be.”

Aziraphale’s hips began to flinch erratically, as if knowing they should be doing something but not knowing what, and definitely not in rhythm with Crowley’s hand. 

Crowley held Aziraphale’s hips firmly in place with just one hand, preventing them from moving. Except, the strength that was now holding him down much greater than that. Aziraphale realised dimly that Crowley must have been willing Aziraphale’s hips not to move. “Relax,” he said soothingly. “Leave it to me. I’ll take good care of you.”

“Oh, oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned brokenly, no longer caring how pathetic he sounded. The feel of Crowley locking down his hips was beyond marvellous. It left him entirely in the power of the hand expertly stroking him. “Oh, yes. Please.”

A long, drawn-out hiss escaped Crowley’s throat. “Yes,” he said. He glanced down at Aziraphale hips, then back to Aziraphale’s glistening eyes. “Yes, you like it when I hold you down, don’t you?”

Aziraphale wouldn’t deny it now. “Yes, yes. Crowley, please…”

“Anything for you, angel,” Crowley said. “I won’t let you down. Next time, I’ll start things off with that. I’ll pin you down. I’ll be gentle, too. You can trust me. I’ll give you everything you need, and do whatever you ask. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned.

“You can’t imagine what it does to me, when you say my name like that.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s chin softly. The touch was unbearably subdued and sweet. It wasn’t the touch of an evil creature. It was an expression of earnest devotion.

Aziraphale felt so desired by Crowley. That made him delirious with happiness. He wanted to kiss Crowley back, but there was no way he had the grace left to pull something like that off. He was falling apart.

“You feel so close now. You must feel it. Do you want it, angel?”

Part of Aziraphale had no idea what it was that he was supposed to be close to. Other, more worldly parts of Aziraphale’s brain were far less ignorant on the matter, and knew exactly what he was approaching. “Yes… yes… please, Crowley…”

The demon increased the speed of his hand, and that was all the push that was needed. “Go on, then. I want to see it. Let go for me.”

For Crowley, Aziraphale let go.

And, as mind-blowingly great as it was, it caused his vision to white out, and that made him the tiniest, littlest bit sad, because he couldn’t quite see Crowley as finely. But he could feel him. And he could hear him.

* * *

Crowley was the best. He was the coolest demon around. He was bloody king of the world. When Aziraphale shuddered in his hand and finally let go, it was all because of Crowley. It was the fruit of Crowley’s own labours. Although, calling them labours was misrepresenting things considerably.

At the moment when Aziraphale crossed over the point of no return and his face contorted in otherworldly pleasure, he almost seemed a little frightened. Perhaps the intensity of his first time was frightening to him.

“That’s it, angel,” Crowley was quick to reassure him, as he milked him through his release, “I’ve got you. That’s it. You’re perfect. Just like that.” Though he doubted Aziraphale would understand what he was saying right now, the exact words weren’t all that important. He only wanted to comfort Aziraphale with his voice.

Aziraphale slumped. The excellent posture that had been a staple of the angel forever was nowhere to be found. Gradually, a pleasantly relaxed Aziraphale came back to his senses. His eyes were half-lidded, and almost sleepy. “Crowley,” he whispered, as if in a dream.

“‘M here.” Every time Aziraphale said his name with so much affection and gratitude, it strangled Crowley’s heart in the best way. It made him feel like the way he had felt when Aziraphale had held his hands while they watched television. That sweetness had been amazing, so amazing that it was terrifying. He could never get enough of Aziraphale’s sweetness.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.”

“Please, I want to thank you. Thank you very much, Crowley. Thank you. For this gift that you’ve given me. I promise that I won’t take it for granted. I am very grateful. This is—”

“Very important to you? Yeah. I know. Don’t sweat it. So you liked what I did?”

“Yes!” There was a furious nod. “Yes. Yes. Absolutely! I enjoyed it very much.”

“Then that’s thanks enough for me,” Crowley said, feeling big.

“Wait! Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted suddenly. “I’ve forgotten! What about you?”

Crowley laughed. “This was about you, angel. This was all for you.”

“Yes, but, what about you? Aren’t you still…? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Crowley almost laughed again, but the faint cloak of worry that had fallen over Aziraphale’s shoulders gave him pause.

Aziraphale’s eyes were sad. “You… don’t want to?”

“I don’t have to,” but even though it was true, it seemed like the wrong thing to say. “It’s different. Of course I bloody want to.”

“But…?”

“What, you think I don’t desire you enough?” Crowley couldn’t help but grin at the ridiculousness of the idea. “Is that it?”

Aziraphale answered that question with the self-doubt on his adorably open face. The angel was really quite dense sometimes.

Crowley shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ve got that all wrong. You’ve got it so, ssso wrong.” He framed both of his hands under each of Aziraphale’s ears, stroking the light-coloured curls that were there. “I’m ssso fucking hard for you right now,” he hissed quietly. He punctuated his point by softly thrusting his hips into Aziraphale’s thigh, letting him feel exactly what Crowley was talking about.

Aziraphale’s warm, half-lidded eyes were no longer so half-lidded.

“But I’m a huge bastard,” Crowley said. “I like the way it feels. To want you. To be hard for you. To need you so badly that it’s taking all of my self-control not to rut into you right now.” He almost didn’t keep talking, out of concern that he was saying too much that Aziraphale wasn’t ready for, but he wanted Aziraphale to understand him. “We could go out to dinner like this, you know,” he confessed. “I could keep myself pent-up like this. No one but us would have to know. You’d be satisfied, like this, but me, I’d be hot and aching for you. We’d make conversation like we always do, and only you would know that I’m secretly lusssting after you like an animal, wishing I could throw you onto the table and have you for dinner instead. Maybe stroking myself under the table every once in a while, just to keep myself ready for whenever you wanted me.”

“Dear me,” Aziraphale whispered. He was downright amazed. It was plain to see that the angel was imagining just such an outing. “I, um… Wouldn’t that hurt you? That kind of… self-denial?” 

Crowley laughed. “You’re so ridiculously cute, you know. Why you gotta be so damn nice all the time? No, it wouldn’t hurt me. At least, not in a way I didn’t want it to.”

That concept was clearly alien to Aziraphale. “I don’t suppose…” He wet his lips nervously, a pretty temptation if ever Crowley saw one. “Has that happened before? At dinner, or anywhere else? Have you secretly been… without me noticing…?”

Crowley threw his head back in laughter. “Damn, I like the way you think! It never occurred to me you’d jump to a conclusion like that! You want me to say yes, don’t you?”

Aziraphale sputtered. “Well, I… no, of course not!” 

“Your concern, if I can call it that, is touching. But the answer is no. All of this is as new to me as it is to you. Believe it or not, I’ve been on my best behaviour at dinner. Totally innocent. You should be impressed.”

“Really?” Aziraphale tried to look away. Since Crowley’s hands were still around his ears, the best he could do was to avert his gaze. “I see…”

By lightly kissing Aziraphale’s lips, making it only a gentle peck, Crowley demanded the angel’s attention back. The gaze of those tender eyes came back to him. “What is it?” Crowley said.

Aziraphale hesitated. “It’s… nothing important.” It was only a matter of moments, though, before Aziraphale apparently convinced himself to make more of an effort. “I haven’t been so innocent,” he admitted.

Crowley was immediately reminded of Aziraphale’s miserable episode last night.

Aziraphale hurriedly added, “I might have been hoping that the same was true for you. That you had been thinking about me in that way, too, before this. But I’m being silly.”

No, Crowley couldn’t say that he had spent much time mulling it over before today. If even a suggestion of such a thought had ever occurred to him, he had squashed it immediately. Why torture himself over something that could never be? He had always seen Aziraphale as a shining light in the distance, beautiful but beyond his reach.

“It’s all right, if you hadn’t thought of me that way!” Aziraphale said quickly, too quickly. “I’m in no position to complain! Please, don’t think I’m disappointed by that! I know it’s different for you! You’ve been very accepting of me. Very accepting. You weren’t thinking of me that way, but now that I’ve brought it up, you’re not opposed to it, and… I understand.” So he said, yet Crowley doubted that Aziraphale fully understood the depth of Crowley’s feelings on the matter. “Though, it’s rather ironic, isn’t it?” Aziraphale gave an angelic, somewhat half-hearted smile. “I was the one having fantasies about you, and you weren’t having any about me. It doesn’t really fit what someone would expect of our roles, don’t you agree? It’s almost laughable. Preposterous, even! I ought to be ashamed of myself, don’t you think?”

“I fantasised, too,” Crowley said in monotone. 

Aziraphale froze.

Crowley felt himself itching to clam up. He didn’t want to talk about this, and yet he was. “Don’t ask. My fantasies are… different. Worse.”

“What? That’s impossible,” Aziraphale couldn’t resist saying. “They can’t be worse than mine.”

Crowley didn’t reply. He glanced down at the hands on his hips, and remembered how Aziraphale had pressed one of them into Crowley’s this morning. Aziraphale’s grip had soothed Crowley’s soul, assuming he had a soul. Aziraphale’s warmth and kindness made him feel good. All he wanted was for Aziraphale to cuddle him. To be held by Aziraphale, like he had been on the sofa last night, was the stuff of Crowley’s wildest desires. To be praised by the sweet angel, and to be told all the nice things that Hell had told him demons could never be or have, was the forbidden stuff of his wet dreams.

“You can tell me about it,” Aziraphale suggested kindly.

But Crowley wasn’t worth that extra effort. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he mumbled. He waved his hand with an unnecessary flourish and miracled away the mess that he had so diligently worked out of his angel. He had even magically realigned Aziraphale’s clothes, setting everything back the way it had been before. Normally, Crowley would have done that kind of thing with his own hands. However, he didn’t feel equal to doing it right now.

“Crowley…”

Crowley did his best to put his own clothes to rights. The neglected need in his own trousers was still wanton, but not as wanton as it had been a minute ago. Besides, he wanted Aziraphale to be able to see at least a noticeable tent of desire in his clothes. It proved to Aziraphale that Crowley wanted him, and Aziraphale loved that kind of thing. Crowley would do anything to make Aziraphale happy—although, his arousal was flagging considerably, so it wasn’t likely to last much longer.

“Crowley, this isn’t right. You’re not acting right.”

“Oh? You didn’t have a good time?

“I had a wonderful time,” Aziraphale said. “That’s beside the point. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Crowley wondered if he could just distract Aziraphale enough to make him forget about this conversation. He could make a spectacle of himself and stroke himself off to mental images of Aziraphale again, letting the angel watch to his heart’s content. It might even work, but it wouldn’t distract the angel forever. “Maybe later,” he said, by way of procrastinating the problem. “Today’s about you.”

“Later?” Aziraphale paused to consider the word. An unusual expression of deep concentration wrinkled the lines of his gentle face. “Very well. Later,” he acknowledged, as if he were making a contract with the demon.

It was a little unnerving, but Crowley was so relieved that he decided he could afford to ignore the warning voice at the back of his mind. Crowley knew he wasn’t being fair in the slightest, so it was very fortunate that the angel was willingly letting him off the hook. It was too nice. The angel was always too nice to him. But it was fortunate, since Aziraphale couldn’t be told the truth. 

Aziraphale might be willing to hold his hand, and could share small gestures like that, but the angel would positively hate him if ever he found out the depraved depths of Crowley’s need for all of the goodness that Aziraphale had to give.

* * *

Aziraphale was, unlike Crowley, slow-moving. He was slow to hit on the right way to get Crowley to talk. It occurred to him that he could withhold hand-holding until Crowley spilled his secrets, but Crowley had already done that. It wouldn’t have been very creative of him. Neither would Aziraphale threaten to withhold his company entirely from the demon until the demon talked. He had already threatened that once to Crowley, in the middle of great Armaggeddon confrontation, and he hoped never to have to do that again. Neither could Aziraphale get Crowley drunk enough to confess, since Crowley could undo his own drunkenness if he caught on. Plus, that seemed dishonest. All in all, it left Aziraphale with very little to leverage.

Not to mention, how could Crowley’s needs be any worse than Aziraphale’s? Aziraphale had been so sure that his own desires were the lowest of the low. What was lower than wanting to be ravaged by one’s demon-best-friend? Crowley was a good person, even if he wouldn’t agree that he was. So it wasn’t anything evil. There really wasn’t any other shameful thing left for Crowley to be fantasising about.

After Crowley had put out the candles, the two of them had sat around the flat for a while, talking about nothing as usual. Eventually, they went out for ice cream. It was all quite typical and lovely. The outside world that they both cherished was none the wiser about what had transpired between them.

Crowley had claimed that he wouldn’t treat Aziraphale any differently after the fact, and he proved himself right. Everything was the same as before. They talked, they laughed, they argued. The relief flooded through Aziraphale’s veins like a rush of cold water. Crowley didn’t think any less of him.

The time flew by too quickly, as it always did when the time was spent in such good company. They went out to dinner at a new oriental restaurant, and still, Aziraphale hadn’t thought of a way to extract the truth from Crowley. When they went together to Aziraphale’s bookshop late in the evening to pick up a book that Aziraphale had forgotten to bring to Crowley’s with him earlier, Aziraphale still had nothing to go on.

While Aziraphale selected the next book for himself, he watched Crowley out of the corner of his eye. Crowley had taken to sitting on his desk. There were, of course, chairs in the bookshop. But Crowley was wild, and often made a habit of changing things up for the sake of being wild. He lazily spread his knees out on the edge of the desk like he owned it, and waited.

Aziraphale was charmed. He was more-than-infatuated. Whatever Crowley’s nefarious needs were, Aziraphale was determined to satisfy them at any cost.

They returned to Crowley’s flat, and watched a couple of movies. Crowley had offered to pop popcorn for them on the stove. Aziraphale had replied suddenly that popcorn would make their hands too oily to hold; and then, Aziraphale had held one of Crowley’s hands. Ten minutes later, he was holding both of them, like he had before, sitting with Crowley on the sofa. Crowley had relaxed against him, and Aziraphale was glad for it. Crowley seemed to be going along with whatever Aziraphale dictated.

He wondered if the closeness made Crowley as happy as it made himself.

This time, he wasn’t going to be the one to break contact first. Even if it took minor miracles to fetch himself things, he was not leaving that sofa.

By the time the second movie was over, Crowley was snoring softly. Aziraphale loved the noise. He wasn’t sure how he could love the noise of someone snoring, but there was something about Crowley’s that bewitched him. It was terrifically intimate.

“Sweet dreams,” Aziraphale murmured, despite knowing Crowley rarely dreamed. He dropped Crowley’s hands, and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s chest instead, letting Crowley’s head fall into the space against his neck. He wanted to be sure that Crowley would wake up feeling well-rested, rather than achy. After all, if Aziraphale was not going to be the first to leave, and Crowley hadn’t left, then he had no choice but to sit with Crowley the entire night.

There was a book next to him. There was a standing lamp near him, so he could read by it. Yet, Aziraphale didn’t pick up the book. Somehow, he wasn’t interested in reading just yet. His hands were already happily occupied, thank you very much.

“Thank you for everything,” he whispered, foolishly. He had no wish to wake up Crowley. The words kind of tumbled out of him, nevertheless. When else would he have the chance to say them? The heartfelt words had built up in his throat, and they had nowhere else to go but out. “You are so good to me.”

Crowley didn’t respond. It was probably better that way. He would have denied Aziraphale’s assertion vehemently again.

Gently, Aziraphale stroked the side of Crowley’s clothed chest that was within reach of one hand. There was nothing sexual whatsoever about the motion. It was an expression of how much he treasured Crowley. Aziraphale kept his voice so low, it barely qualified as a whisper. “You were very nice to me today, my dear. Very attentive.” Maybe the sentiment would reach Crowley in his dreams. With a glimmer of hope, Aziraphale thought that perhaps Crowley wouldn’t deny the praise in the safety of his own imagination. “Very brave, I should think, too. You went so far out of your way for me.”

There was no reaction. So far, so good.

“When you said that you weren’t putting on a character, that made me so happy. I couldn’t believe it. It still strikes me as far too incredible. You’re so handsome and charming, you could probably have whomever you wanted in the world, and yet I was worth your time. How could someone as brilliant as you want someone like me? I think you are amazing, Crowley. You’re so wonderfully witty, fun, and kind. Oh, you are too wonderful. I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me. If only you would tell me what it was that you needed from me. Don’t you know how much I care about you, my dear? You mean the world to me.”

Somewhere down the line, the snoring noises had ceased.

As soon as he noticed, Aziraphale froze in worry. Had he woken Crowley? That wasn’t his intention. Had his feelings not been quiet enough to reach Crowley’s dreams? 

On the other hand, Crowley remained motionless. All other signs pointed to sleep, so that was good. Well, except for his accelerated breathing. That didn’t point to sleep. What was that about? Perhaps it was a hint that Crowley was at the cusp of waking up.

A strong sense of guilt prompted Aziraphale to take action. “Sh, it’s okay,” Aziraphale murmured, “go back to sleep.” He adjusted his posture every so slightly, encouraging Crowley to sink further into the angel. He made more of a point to stroke Crowley’s side. “Don’t mind me. Everything's okay. Enjoy your rest. You deserve a nice rest.”

The fast breathing did not slow down.

A nasty thought grew inside of Aziraphale’s brain. Perhaps his presence was upsetting Crowley, making him anxious. But, he reminded himself desperately, Crowley had felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms in the first place. Maybe it was best to go back to being silent. It was more than likely that his rambling was the bother. So, Aziraphale would shut it off. That might do the trick. He’d be quiet.

“M-More,” a weak, scratchy voice filled the air.

Aziraphale’s hand that was stroking the demon’s size froze sharply, stunned. “You’re… awake?”

Only silence answered him. Without a doubt, Crowley was awake now, yet he stayed quiet.

“‘More’, you said? More of what?”

Still, no noise came back but the quick breathing.

Aziraphale’s mind went into a frenzy of thoughts, struggling to put together a clean picture. He hadn’t been doing very much the last few minutes. “Please, Crowley, what is it? More of… this?” He resumed caressing Crowley’s side, with the same slow tenderness as before. It was a total guess.

Crowley was the epitome of unhelpfulness. Aziraphale might have felt a shudder beneath his fingers, but Crowley didn’t let any other reaction show. 

Aziraphale didn’t believe that his guess was entirely correct.

“What gave me away?” Crowley mumbled.

There was a pause. “Excuse me?”

“How’d you know? That I was ‘wake?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Well, you were breathing quickly.”

“Shit,” Crowley hissed. 

“Why? What’s the matter? Were you pretending to be asleep?” An enormous, awful truth gradually dawned on the angel. “Have you been awake this whole time?”

Crowley didn’t answer.

“Oh, dear.” Oh, goodness. All of Aziraphale’s praises and kind words.

Crowley had heard them all. He had sat through each one. He hadn’t yet refuted any of them.

“Why were you pretending to be asleep?” Aziraphale asked.

“It worked fine yesterday,” was all Crowley answered.

Aziraphale recalled yesterday. Aziraphale had held Crowley in his arms on the sofa, in almost exactly the same way. Then, when Crowley seemed asleep, Aziraphale had gone to fetch a book, only to return to find Crowley awake and beating a hasty retreat to his bed upstairs. Realizing the awful truth, Aziraphale was heartbroken. “You’re too polite,” he said in the deadest of tones, “to ask me to leave.”

Crowley weakly pressed the arms that were wrapped around him closer to himself. “No, don’t leave!” he whispered.

“What? But…?” This was maddening. None of what the demon said or did made any sense.

“It’s not like that! I chickened out yesterday, that’s all!” Crowley said, with effort. “I ain’t ever polite, angel!”

Aziraphale’s eyes popped wide. Oh, that made much more sense. “So you do enjoy my company!” he declared, proudly. “But…” Something about Aziraphale’s company had scared Crowley, too. “You’re afraid of my company, too?”

“Look, me and cuddling aren’t supposed to mix, okay?” Crowley said, tiredly. He seemed to hate his own words. “Never mind. I should be going to bed now,” He started to get up.

Aziraphale wasn’t about to let himself lose this one. A hurricane of devotion whirled out of nowhere to rage at the forefront of his mind. He jerked upright so that he could pull Crowley back down to his chest. “Stay!”

Crowley fell back into place between Aziraphale’s legs without a fight. Kind of like a ragdoll.

Aziraphale was more than a little disturbed by that. His own forcefulness made him uneasy. “Is that all right?”

A noncommittal groan was what he got.

This was difficult. Aziraphale wondered how he should get a proper answer. What would Crowley do…? Then, Aziraphale, feeling immensely clever, asked, “What colour is the flag?”

There was an indistinct noise from Crowley’s throat. “I… I dunno…”

“That means red, dear.”

“Green, then,” a breathless murmur cut in instantly. “Fucking green. Front and back.”

Aziraphale sighed in relief. Crowley may have been conflicted, but he did want to be here. “Good. Now sit there, while I think for a moment.”

Crowley obeyed.

If Aziraphale had Crowley’s power to stop time and take himself away to work out a problem, he would have done it. He didn’t want Crowley to suffer through another second of anxiety. Aziraphale was not so powerful, however, so instead, he sent his synapses chugging like the old-fashioned, well-worn trains that they were, seeking the explanation for Crowley’s odd behaviour. All of his thoughts came back to the fact that Crowley had taken Aziraphale’s praises without a fight. That was terribly unlike him.

If Crowley had managed to keep up his pretence of sleep, then it was likely that Aziraphale would have kept going on with the praises, too. In that case, Crowley would have had to suffer a barrage of the overly-affectionate compliments and niceties that he found so distasteful. At least Aziraphale had stopped with the affection as soon as he realised that Crowley was awake. But then, at that moment, what had Crowley asked for?

‘More’. A tentative, frightened, starving ‘more’.

Aziraphale could have slapped himself. “Oh!” He must have been an awful angel, not to have come to the truth sooner. This area was supposed to be his speciality, and he had failed to see it for what it was. He chuckled. “Oh! I see it all now! I’ve been so slow, so foolish. Ah, but of course!” He held Crowley’s head, and turned him around, so that he could share his excitement with Crowley face-to-face. “It’s curtains for you. I’ve figured out your little secret. The fantasy you wouldn’t tell me. Your time has come, my dear,” Aziraphale laughed playfully.

Crowley was stock-still. “What…?”

Aziraphale ran one pure, innocent hand along Crowley’s cheek. “Why, my dear Crowley,” he said, fondly. “You want me to love you.”

With the ferocity and colour of an explosion of a firecracker, a hot panic the likes of which the world had never seen before burst underneath the surface of Crowley’s face. A fight-or-flight reaction shot its way through Crowley’s nerves. He tensed visibly, looking very much like a meerkat getting ready to bounce. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry! You don’t have to say that. You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t wish to. I can see it all now, clear as day. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Aziraphale lovingly—yes, lovingly—stroked over Crowley’s snake tattoo. He could feel Crowley shake, trying hard not to lean into that touch. “Of course I understand why you would be ashamed of feeling that way. I understand why you didn’t want to tell me. It must have been very hard on you.”

Crowley closed his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry.” His chest heaved with his laboured breaths.

“Sh, it’s all right, my dear.” Aziraphale stroked affectionately through the roots of short red hair. Crowley had the shocked, yearning expression of someone who was certain that he was dreaming. “Angels are made of love. It is perfectly understandable for you to want to be loved by a pure-hearted angel. It’s not something you have to hide. There’s nothing wrong with that. I will be that angel for you, if you’ll let me. I can be a very loving angel. I would be delighted,” more than delighted, “to fulfil that need for you.”

“Damn it.” Crowley’s hands were balled into fists. “How can you be so smart,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “but so stupid?”

That took the wind out of Aziraphale’s sail. “Oh. I…” His fingers floated away from Crowley’s hair. “Am I wrong?”

“I don’t want l-o-v-e from random goody-two-shoes angels! Fuck those guys! I don’t give a shit about them!” Crowley cried out in frustration. “Just you, Aziraphale! Just you! You’re the only one that matters.” 

Aziraphale was amazed. It amazed him that Crowley could need that from him. It amazed him, also, that Crowley was afraid to even say the word for it out loud.

“Just…” Crowley opened his eyes. They looked so vulnerable. “You’re my best friend, okay?”

Aziraphale held his breath. It had been true for a while now, but he couldn’t ignore it anymore. This whole situation felt so familiar. There were too many parallels piling up now. Neither angel nor demon could ignore how similar this conversation was to one from that morning.

“Is it just me,” Crowley laughed awkwardly, “or are you getting a sense déjà vu?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale murmured, “I am.”

“I guess we’re both pretty messed up, aren’t we?” Some of the Crowley’s tension had dissolved. He rolled his head, and looked up at the ceiling. “Damn it. Well, shit. I guess you know my secret now. Nothing I can do about that. Whatever. It doesn’t mean anything. Nothing has to change. I want to say that we can just forget about it, pretend it never even happened. But I know you’re too nice to forget about it. You’ll try to do what I want regardless, which is why I gotta say this.” Crowley looked at the spot on Aziraphale’s sternum where his head had rested not long ago. “If you don’t feel the same way, then don’t bother. I don’t want pity. I sure as shit don’t need it. If you show me pity, I’ll tell you where you can shove it.”

Aziraphale cracked a smirk at Crowley’s harsh manner of speaking. “You are very funny,” he said plainly.

Crowley blushed. “Uh… Er, damn it.”

“I should warn you that I’m not going to show you pity of any kind,” Aziraphale said cheerfully. “Nothing could be farther from the truth. I intend to be quite ruthless with you.”

Crowley snorted to the side. “Yeah, right.”

Aziraphale batted his eyelashes. “My dear, if you would be so kind as to lay on your back for me? I would very much like to see your head on my lap.”

Crowley turned sharply back to Aziraphale, stunned, his snake eyes wide.

“Oh, take your time,” Aziraphale said sweetly. “I’m very patient. I’m in no rush. I’m not going to leave you. I’m looking forward to this far too much to do that.”

“Fuck,” Crowley said.

“Sh, relax, now.” Aziraphale all but petted Crowley, encouraging him to collapse downward until he let his feet fall over the far sofa’s arm and his head was resting on the angel’s lap. “There, there. Isn’t that better?”

Crowley buried his half-mortified, half-thrilled face into the crooks of his own elbows. “Fuck!” he swore again. “Fuck.”

It was extremely fortunate that six thousand years of loving all of Her creation had gifted Aziraphale with the knowledge of exactly what to do in this situation. When it came to knowing how to love one person in particular, he was an expert in theory, if not necessarily in practice. “You are so beautiful.” Aziraphale returned to slowly stroking Crowley’s hair. “So precious to me. I adore you.”

“Damn it, shut up with that! Stop it with this whole angel act!”

“I’m not acting,” Aziraphale countered. “I have no reason to act. You truly are precious to me, Crowley. If love is something you need, then I want to give it to you. It’s easy for me to. You may be embarrassed about this, but I’m not. Truth be told, I’m honoured.” He sighed in contentment. “This is… very special to me.”

Crowley’s head shuddered from the touch of Aziraphale’s fingers.

Aziraphale smiled angelically, though in his racing heart, he was as excited as he was merciless. His entire existence had been leading up to this. He had been made to love Crowley like this. “As you know, I am very good at sensing love. All angels are. I wonder if you can sense love, too? Can you sense my fondness for you when I do this?” He glided his palms down the back of red hair, to fondle sweetly below neckline.

Shivers ran down Crowley’s body like lightning from the soft clouds of Aziraphale’s fingers. “Angel,” Crowley groaned into his elbows, “fuck, you’re killing me. I can’t take this.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Perhaps you should go to sleep now? You must be tired, and I do care about your well-being.”

“What? Me, go to sleep? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“It would be remiss of me to make you miss your sleep,” Aziraphale said sweetly. “And after you’ve been so good for me.”

“‘M not good!” Crowley shouted.

“Ah, well, just as you say.” Aziraphale could tell that breaking down that particular wall would take some work. He would save the job for another day. “But, perhaps you won’t argue when I say you are a good demon. A very good one. Very good at being misbehaved for me. Very attractive. Very tempting.”

Crowley fidgeted. “I’m so fucked, aren’t I…”

“You’ve been a very good demon for me. You made excellent work of having your way with me today. I was thoroughly defiled, and I enjoyed it very much. You did a very good job, and you made me very happy. You’re a good demon who has earned his sleep.”

“I’m gonna… fucking discorporate,” Crowley groaned shakily.

Aziraphale almost felt sorry for Crowley. The angel had barely poured out any love to him, all things considered, and already it was overwhelming the demon. Aziraphale wouldn’t say it out loud, but it gave him a power trip. He had so much love to give to Crowley, and it was a delight to see how every single ounce of it was extremely appreciated. He supposed that Crowley must have ridden a similar power trip when he had seduced Aziraphale earlier.

Crowley whined, “No way I’m gonna sleep like this. Still dressed. No blanket. Not gonna happen!”

“You don’t have to sleep if you don’t wish to,” Aziraphale said. Out of kindness, he miracled a throw blanket from his bookshop over Crowley’s body. The loose clothes that the demon was wearing would have to stay for now, though. Aziraphale didn’t feel that he had earned the right to remove them. So Aziraphale brought his hand back to the top of Crowley’s head, and kept his touches rhythmic and soporific. “You can lie there and enjoy the soothing feeling of my fingers in your hair all night. You’re very welcome to enjoy it.”

“No,” Crowley moaned drowsily, “not gonna sleep.”

But Aziraphale wasn’t going to go on arguing with him. He only caressed Crowley, savouring the way Crowley melted into him and willing that some of the angel’s affection would burrow deep into the demon’s thick skull.

Fifteen minutes later, Aziraphale was reading a book by the lamplight, while the sound of genuine snoring warmed the heart that was tight in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is more than willing to give his sensual side to Aziraphale, but he doesn't know what to do with all the affection that Aziraphale wants to give him. Aziraphale is eager to show Crowley how much he cares, but he panics when Crowley asks him if he's harbouring any kinky desires.

Crowley had a severe craving, when he woke up the next morning, to drive the Bentley down the nearest open road at ninety miles per hour with the volume of Queen’s greatest hits turned all the way. The thing was, it was his way of dealing with stress.

In this case, it wasn’t stress, per se. It was more like, the complete and unconditional love that Aziraphale beamed down at him was so overwhelming that Crowley’s brain had filed it away as stress. What kind of self-respecting professional tempter allowed himself to believe he was genuinely loved? What sort of demon deserved love, anyway? And what if his total unfamiliarity with love caused him to screw things up with Aziraphale? These were questions that he was eager to put out of his head as quickly as possible.

Aziraphale set aside the book that he was near the end of, and devoted all his attention to the demon. “Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?”

“Put your shoes on,” Crowley said, “and get in the car.”

Aziraphale blinked. “I’m sorry? Are we going somewhere?”

Crowley couldn’t explain his anxieties to the angel. He could barely confront them himself. “You’ve got ten minutes,” he said. He rolled off of Aziraphale and sauntered upstairs to fix himself up. 

The bewildered angel hadn’t had said anything about it. He only went along with what Crowley wanted.

Therefore, it wasn’t much later that Crowley found himself behind the wheel of his prized possession, window down and arm hanging out of it, while Aziraphale found himself hanging desperately onto the handle at the top of his car door. The music blasted out of the car's speakers until Aziraphale had finally remembered how to turn the volume down to a more sociable level. Crowley had driven as far from the city as possible, to whichever backwater roads seemed the most deserted.

“This is much too fast!” a terrified Aziraphale was saying. “I say, Crowley, where are we going?”

“Dunno.”

The angel turned to him. “Is something the matter?” He shouted over the wind and the music. “Is there something we should talk about?”

“Dunno,” Crowley said, his voice loud but calm. “Just felt like it.” The bracing wind on his face was certainly refreshing. The familiar thrill of the Bentley had done wonders for alleviating some of the panic from waking up to a place of total love and kindness. 

Aziraphale was not reassured. “If you’re going to drive us around for no reason, you might as well bring us somewhere we can eat,” Aziraphale huffed. “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“‘Kay.”

They stopped at the first reasonable-looking diner that Crowley came across. The two of them must have seemed overdressed and out of place, but Crowley didn’t care. Besides, he slumped himself so well that he never seemed out of place anywhere. By contrast, Aziraphale stood out like a sore thumb everywhere he went.

They took one of the many empty tables by the windows. A waitress came by and took their orders. Aziraphale tucked a napkin into his collared shirt, and sat as upright as he always did. Crowley was slothfulness itself. He leaned an elbow on the table and propped his head up on it, staring at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale looked down at himself, then back to Crowley. “What is it?”

“I like looking at you,” Crowley said. “You’re cute.”

“Ah, um, yes, well.” Aziraphale smiled and un-smiled repeatedly. His fingers fiddled with themselves. “Thank you for the compliment. You are very handsome yourself.”

“Naturally. Don’t forget stylish, too.”

Aziraphale was startled into a laugh, and Crowley was glad for it. Despite all the secrets and intimacies that they had shared yesterday and last night—or perhaps because of them—there had been an expectant air hanging around them. Crowley’s boast and Aziraphale’s laugh cut through that fog, though, and things felt more normal to Crowley.

“What were the odds?” Crowley began. “Near rock bottom, I would have guessed. I mean, that I start wanting something from you, and you start wanting something from me, at the exact same time, when we’ve had six thousand years already and nothing as serious as this ever came up. And then we’re both thinking almost the exact same stupid thoughts about how the other guy will hate it if they ever learn about it. It’s a crazy coincidence.”

“Maybe it isn’t a coincidence,” said Aziraphale.

“Oh, really. I’m all ears for the theory you’ve obviously come up with.”

“Well.” Aziraphale bit his lip. “These developments have arisen because we started living together. Maybe it’s a consequence of that.”

“I don’t see how one causes the other.”

“Hold on. It’s quite possible,” Aziraphale said, “that we’ve spent more time together in the last hundred years than in the previous five thousand nine hundred years. And possibly we’ve spent more time together in this one year than in the previous ninety-nine.”

“Maybe. Might be true.”

“Even though we’ve known each other since the start of the world, we haven’t been in such close proximity in so little amount of time, until recently.”

“What’s your point, angel?”

“I’m suggesting that we’re suffering from something like… radiation sickness. I am serious!” Aziraphale scoffed at Crowley’s amused expression. “I must be radiating some low-grade mysterious angelic energy, and you must be radiating something similar. My radiation put thoughts of love into your head. Your radiation put something must less respectable into my head. It would explain why our mutual situations were slow to build up, until they reached some sort of… saturation point.”

“That’s crazy,” Crowley said. He was, deep down, impressed by the imaginative suggestion, but that didn’t change the fact that it was a crazy one. “Doesn’t that imply that we’ll become even needier bastards over time?”

Aziraphale bristled. “Yes, I suppose it does…”

“Wait a sec’. I’m not sure I want to consider that theory, anyway. That would be bad news for us. It doesn’t speak much to free will, does it?”

“We’re an angel and a demon. Free will is not in our purview.”

“That’s the old way of thinking,” Crowley argued. “We’re on the side of the humans now. We’re all about that free will jazz. But if you’re turning me soppy just by being around me, and my being around you is making you—”

Aziraphale coughed pointedly into his balled-up hand. 

Crowley chuckled. “Right. If we can change each other like that, then frankly, it sucks. It means we’ve got no free will about it. I’ll have no choice but to be drawn to you, and vice versa.”

“You’re saying we won’t have chosen each other. Fate will have shoved us together.”

“Yeah.”

“That is indeed… unappealing.” Aziraphale frowned. 

“It kinda spits in the face of things, you know.”

“Yes, quite.” Aziraphale tapped his chin. “Although….”

Crowley raised an interested eyebrow over the line of his tinted glasses.

“Theoretically,” Aziraphale began, “theoretically, if we are walking emotion radiators, then what if it’s the other way around? What if the radiation is a consequence of our choosing each other, and not a cause? For example, perhaps when I am with you and I am thinking, ‘I want to do something nice for Crowley’ or ‘I care about Crowley’, that thought is literally going to you and making you aware that I could do something nice for you. But then I have those thoughts more and more, and with greater intent. And then suddenly, a billion of those thoughts are stacked up inside you, and we all know where that leaves you.”

Crowley laughed out loud.

Embarrassed, Aziraphale turned partially away. “You needn’t make fun of me. It’s only a theory.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, angel. I’m not making fun. I think it’s great. You get a gold star.”

“Are you sure that you are not making fun of me?”

“No, no, not all,” Crowley drawled. “I like it. It implies we are accidentally using minor miracles to turn each other into needy bastards.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh at that conclusion. “Oh, yes. Dear me. That would be true.”

“Hey, I have another theory,” Crowley said. “I’ve heard it said that familiarity breeds fondness. Maybe we just spend so much damn time together, and we got so bloody fond of each other, that we lost our marbles.”

“That is probably the simplest explanation,” Aziraphale said. “I’ve heard that the simplest explanation is usually the correct one.”

“Ah, I know what we oughta do.” Crowley leaned in conspiratorially. “Let’s collect some more data. Give the whole thing a few more months. See what happens.”

“Maybe some years, just to be safe,” prompted Aziraphale, also leaning forward and whispering like a character in a spy movie. “We’ll need a lot of data.”

“Yes, years, at the very least,” Crowley agreed, “We’ll need all the data we can get. It’s gonna be a real tough problem to crack.” And then they both fell back and erupted into laughter.

When the waitress returned, she was met with the sight of two grown men who were holding their sides in semi-successful efforts to contain their childish levels of merriment.

* * *

Aziraphale hadn’t forgotten the grand way with which Crowley had seduced him, after Crowley had learned his secret. If Aziraphale didn’t match the seduction with some similarly grand gesture of his own, he would be sadly disappointed in himself.

To his surprise, he finally hit upon a good idea for one. Once it came to him, he was very enthusiastic about it making it a reality. He was also a little nervous, but only a little. He was an expert at cherishing things, and he cherished Crowley.

After they had returned to Crowley’s flat and Aziraphale had reaccustomed himself to moving at a speed that was not considerably over the local speed limit, Aziraphale dimmed the lights.

Crowley tipped his glasses down so he could better give Aziraphale a questioning glare.

“Oh, I’ve been told that dim lights are good for the mood,” Aziraphale said. He clapped his hands together, as if in humble entreaty. “Won’t you please choose a seat for me? I’ll sit anywhere you like.”

Crowley’s widest, wickedest grin stretched from ear to ear. “Oh, you naughty angel,” he slurred. He kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Aziraphale did his best haughty sniff. “I am not naughty,” he said. “Naughtiness is your area, not mine. I’ve said nothing to warrant that kind of remark.”

“Whatever you say. You seemed to appreciate the last seat you chose. Why fix what ain’t broke?”

“There’s something to be said for variety. Surprise me.”

Crowley suavely set his glasses down next to where he left his mobile charging near the door, and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wandered around the flat as if seeing it for the first time. 

Meanwhile, Aziraphale removed his shoes, coat, and blazer, and went into the kitchen. He knew where the matches were, so he found those immediately. The candles were another story. He checked all of the obvious cupboards and drawers. Then he checked the ones that were more out of reach. He had assumed they would be easy to find, so not finding them was something of an unpleasant setback.

It was short-lived, however. Crowley sauntered in and said, “Already taken care of, angel.” With a subtle nod of his head, he beckoned Aziraphale to follow.

Aziraphale was brought to the loveseat in front of a lit fireplace. The fireplace, like everything else in Crowley’s flat, was so sparse and modern-looking that Aziraphale wasn’t inclined at first to think of it as a fireplace. But the fire was romantic and the heat was comfortable. He sat at the spot Crowley had chosen. “This is very nice, my dear,” Aziraphale said, “though I must say, I rather expected you to choose someplace more adventurous. The dining table, or the roof, perhaps.”

Crowley walked ominously around the seat. “Maybe if it were me who was about to get his world rocked,” he replied calmly, his voice reaching dangerously low levels. “I wasn’t choosing a seat for myself, you know.”

“Ah, you chose a seat that you thought I would like!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “It is a very comfortable seat. How kind of you! What a very thoughtful and kind thing you’ve done for me. That makes me very happy.”

Crowley, startled by the kindness, stopped mid-stride. The abrupt break in his pacing diminished his ominousness somewhat.

On the inside, Aziraphale did a mental fist-pump. His demon didn’t stand a chance this time. On the outside, though, the angel was all innocence. “Would you please kneel on the carpet in front of me? I want to touch your beautiful hair.”

Crowley didn’t move. His sharp yellow eyes crinkled. He wasn’t angry; he was confused, and moved. Clearly, this seduction was not going the way the demon had anticipated.

Aziraphale smiled lovingly. “Pretty please? With sugar on top?”

The cuteness must have hit Crowley hard. “Uh, sure,” he mumbled. “Anything you like.” He knelt in front of Aziraphale, hesitated, and then bent his head towards the angel.

“Thank you very much.” Aziraphale caressed the top of Crowley’s head, taking care to keep his touches long and slow. “It wasn’t too long ago that your hair was quite long,” he said. “Short or long, I think it’s lovely.”

Crowley bent his head further. He said something so quiet and indistinct that it was unintelligible.

“It feels very nice to comb your hair with my fingers,” Aziraphale said. “Do you like having your hair touched?”

A breathy noise escaped the demon. “‘S good.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. I could touch your hair all day.”

There was a delightful strain to Crowley’s voice. “Angel…”

“Yes?” The word was syrupy-sweet. “Is there something else that you would like?”

Crowley looked up. “You wanna know what I want most right now?”

“Absolutely.”

The fire burning in the fireplace could not compare to the fire that was currently burning behind Crowley’s heated gaze. “I want to take your aching cock in my mouth,” he rasped, “and suck you deep down my throat.”

“Ah. Ah.” Aziraphale had expected a more selfish request. More hand-holding, perhaps, or a scratch behind the ears. The abrupt wave of carnal thirst that Crowley was sending shot right through Aziraphale, straight to his groin. It felt good, certainly, but it was distracting. He had wanted to focus on Crowley.

“Well?” Crowley pressed. “Whaddya say?”

Aziraphale collected himself. He wasn’t about to let Crowley get the upper hand. He had to make this about Crowley. Yes, this was supposed to be for Crowley, not Aziraphale. It gave him great courage to remember that he had to be strong. Aziraphale exhaled. “Yes, by all means,” he encouraged, while he kept his hands in Crowley’s hair. The confidence he projected impressed even himself. He sounded much more confident than he felt. “Please, take care of me. I know you’ll take excellent care of me.”

Crowley, stubborn as always, growled. “Oh, I will. I’m gonna suck you dry, angel. I’m gonna make you feel so damn amazing.”

A steadying breath, then, “You are welcome to do whatever you like to me, for as long you like,” Aziraphale answered tactfully. He was working hard not to whimper at Crowley’s words, and somehow succeeding fabulously. Even if he was very much exploding from anxiety and desire on the inside. “I could only ever love what you do to me. I leave my body entirely in your capable hands. Do you want me to spread my knees for you? I’m all yours, dear. I trust you completely.” As soon as he could get them to stop trembling for a second, Aziraphale parted his knees wide for the demon, while he secretly swallowed down the heart clogging his throat.

Crowley groaned at the display of trust. “Er—fuck,” he whispered. “And I always thought your lot didn’t go in for torture.”

There was a second fist-pump inside Aziraphale’s chest. He smiled down at Crowley. He stopped stroking Crowley’s head and simply laid his hands there, holding him.

“Why are you being so—damn it,” Crowley blinked several times. “You’re screwing with me, aren't you? It’s throwing me off.”

That was a remarkably weak comeback. The hours of intelligent conversation under their belts had trained them for better retorts than that. Aziraphale countered it easily. “I am doing nothing of the kind. That would imply that I am putting on some kind of act. I am not. I am entirely genuine, I assure you.” Technically, that was a lie, because he was suppressing some of his reactions to Crowley’s touches. He had to maintain his self-control in order to accomplish his goal. But what mattered was that he wasn’t inventing any reactions. His love for Crowley was totally authentic. “I only want you to know how appreciated you are. You mean so much to me, Crowley. You do so much for me. I only wish I could do as much for you.”

That amused Crowley. “You think you don't do anything for me? You have no bloody idea what you do,” he breathed, “do you?”

Aziraphale paused. “What… do you mean?”

Crowley didn’t answer right away. Instead, he hungrily reached forward to Aziraphale’s waist, and went about opening his trousers up at the front so fast that it startled the angel. Crowley was advancing with much more haste and desperation than he had during their first time. “Your hands on my head. They feel so bloody good. I can’t think straight with them on me.” He pulled the angel’s throbbing length out in the air. “Mine,” he hissed. Unceremoniously, he ran his tongue along it. Once, twice. Tasting it, testing it.

Aziraphale gasped. “Ah…” The unexpected, lewd sensation was marvellous. It made him long for so much more. It made him frightened of whether or not he could handle more. “Crowley… ah, please…”

“Mine,” Crowley repeated, “this is gonna be mine,” licking as if savouring a lollipop.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale forced himself to say, “there’s no need for you to—”

“You’re mine, angel. I want you in me now. Need you in me. You’re fucking mine.” He dropped his jaw, parted his lips, and greedily took the length into his hot, wet mouth. 

“Crowley!” There was a scream, which gave way to a long, deeply satisfied moan. Aziraphale’s hands remained on Crowley’s head while Crowley moved up and down along Aziraphale. It was obscene. “Oh… Oh, please, Crowley… oh, goodness…”

Crowley didn’t hold back any of his skill. Without a doubt, he was using whatever trick in his extensive arsenal was necessary to bring Aziraphale to the height of pleasure as quickly as possible. Crowley’s speed was eager and demanding, as if he’d forgotten how to pace himself.

Aziraphale sobbed. The pleasure was deep and intense. “Crowley, please… Not so… not so fast… it’s too much…”

To his credit, Crowley did slow down a little. His pace grew less frantic and more tender by minute degrees. It must have taken a great deal of concentration. Crowley was so kind, like that. Even while he could barely control himself, he was trying to make it good for Aziraphale.

“Crowley… It feels so good…” Aziraphale’s body longed to push into Crowley’s mouth, or to push Crowley’s head down, anything to take even more of the pleasure that the demon was giving him. But Aziraphale refused to do that. He fought with his body to keep still for Crowley. His body was for Crowley to use. “Oh dear, you feel so wonderful…”

Crowley must have sensed Aziraphale’s desire for more. He firmly held down Aziraphale’s hips with both hands, and took Aziraphale down his throat as far as he would go.

“Oh,” Aziraphale moaned. Crowley’s generous heat all over him felt impossibly good. “You are amazing. This is amazing. I feel so close to you. You are so wonderful. So perfect.” 

Up and down, Crowley moved. For his part, there wasn’t any shame to be found in the way he controlled their bodies. He moved only with the intent of giving Aziraphale the most satisfaction.

“I’ll take everything you give me.” The angel was a whimpering, eager mess. “I’ll be good and sit here for you and take everything.”

Crowley moaned around the thickness in his mouth.

Aziraphale gasped. The feel of those vibrations inside of him was divine. There was no way that Aziraphale could hold out under this assault of the thrilling sensations being thrust upon him. “Crowley… Crowley, you have to slow down, I’m too close, I can’t… I’m going to… I’m…”

The demon didn’t pull away. He didn’t stop, wouldn’t let go of Aziraphale. He went on lavishing all of his attention, ascending and descending on top of the angel with abandon. His mouth was ravenous.

There was no helping it. The angel surrendered completely. It was the wonderfully obscene sight of his demon moving so frantically along him that put him over the edge. With Crowley’s name on his lips, he gave up his release to his beloved, generous demon, who swallowed it all down as if he were starved for it. 

Crowley moaned with pleasure. On account of that, pure joy suffused Aziraphale’s frantic heart.

* * *

Crowley licked his lips, as moved back from Aziraphale. He was painfully hard and aching inside his own clothes. The affectionate hands caressing his hair were torturously soft. He looked up at his angel.

Aziraphale sighed with contentment. “Crowley. That was so good. Thank you.”

Crowley’s racing heart skipped a beat. He selfishly drank in the delicious praise that the angel gave him. For the most part, he was immensely satisfied with himself. However, he was aware that he had let himself get far too carried away. “Sorry,” he murmured. “Went too fast.”

“Don’t apologise, dear. It was wonderful,” Aziraphale said. “Will you please come up here?”

Without a second thought, Crowley climbed up off the carpet onto the loveseat, ignoring the stiffness in his knees. He straddled Aziraphale’s lap and admired his adorable angel’s pleased expression. “Want some more, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled. “There is one more thing I want.”

Crowley leaned forward and whispered slyly into Aziraphale’s ear. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“Oh, it’s nothing vulgar.” Gently, Aziraphale moved Crowley’s head back, so that he could look him in the eyes. Aziraphale’s eyes were brimming with adoration, and his fingers were warm and kind against Crowley’s face. Crowley was terribly fascinated. “I want you to know, my dear,” Aziraphale said in a sweet manner, “how much I love you.”

A shiver of arousal jerked through Crowley’s throbbing lower body. He cried out softly. He regretted the show of weakness immediately.

But Aziraphale, the bastard, didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. He rested his forehead against Crowley’s. The light contact was so impossibly innocent. “It’s all right, my dear. I love you.”

Crowley whimpered. His hips thrusted involuntarily against Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale’s love was sheer, unmitigated ecstasy to him. He moaned breathlessly.

With that, the demon’s luck was gone as quickly as it had come. Even Aziraphale couldn’t miss the hips rutting on him. The angel’s brow shot up in astonishment, his honest eyes wide and questioning.

“Fuck,” Crowley hissed, ashamed of his wantonness. This was hardly fitting of a master of temptation. His body needed Aziraphale’s love so terribly, he wasn’t even sure if he could keep himself from thrusting again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This had to stop right now, his brain cried to his body. Aziraphale was going to laugh at him. Aziraphale was going to hate him for being so disgusting and selfish—

Without any warning, Aziraphale surrounded Crowley with a welcoming embrace. The angel’s soft presence enveloped him, warming him like the sun against his ancient cold-blooded body. “I love you,” Aziraphale said again, with sincere feeling. There could be no doubt that the depth of emotion behind each word was genuine. Hands were pressing with devotion against the demon’s back, trapping him in the luxurious hug. “I love you.”

“Shit!” It made Crowley tremble violently. Aziraphale’s declarations of love and comforting embrace inflamed his senses and excited him to no end. The feeling suffused in his chest and permeated down to lick at his groin. He had longed for Aziraphale’s love, and now he was being filled with it. His hips were fully grinding against Aziraphale’s body now. “Fuck, please,” he begged, not knowing what he was begging for, “Aziraphale, please.”

“Don’t you love me, too, Crowley?” Aziraphale was the soul of gentleness. “I want to hear you say it.”

It seemed that angels were experts at the best kind of torture. At least, this angel was. “Yes,” Crowley gasped.

“Yes, what, my dear?”

Hot tears streamed down Crowley’s face. His confession went against every demonic thing about him. Love was supposed to be forbidden to him. He wasn’t built for love. Couldn’t have it. Didn’t deserve it. “I lo… I love you,” he sobbed, wishing he could muster up the inner strength to hate himself for it.

“I love you, too, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “I love you very much. I love you more than anything. You’re all I can think about when we’re apart. You’re all I see when I walk into the room. I can’t tell you how good it is to be able to hug you like this. Thank you for giving me this chance. I won’t ever let you regret it. You may believe you don’t deserve it, but you do. You’re worth so much. You give so much. Let me give as much to you. I love you.”

Brokenly moaning Aziraphale’s name and thrusting like his life depended on it, Crowley came helplessly into his trousers. His head fell back on its own accord, and his wet eyes fluttered shut. The relief was wonderful, and the pleasure burned through him. The emptiness inside of Crowley that he had long ago learned to ignore was stuffed to overflowing with Aziraphale’s love. The discomfort of the tightness of his own clothes didn’t even register. Aziraphale held him through it and whispered sweet nothings to him for a while.

“That’s it, just like that. You are so good, Crowley. So very good. Look how beautiful you are. I love seeing you like this. I love seeing you feel good. It makes me so happy to give you what you need.”

When Crowley had regained himself, he was still in Aziraphale’s embrace, warm and loved. It was bloody marvellous. He wanted to stay in the angel’s arms forever. He should have been furious with himself, he knew. He had just come without being touched at all, and what’s worse, he was crying like a baby. After this, Aziraphale wasn’t likely to think of Crowley as very cool. Not to mention what would happen to Crowley’s reputation if the other demons ever found out about it. He really couldn’t be bothered to care too much about it, though. He was too happy to care. He collapsed against the angel, for the moment, unable to bear the weight of his own body.

Aziraphale continued to hold him lovingly. “I’ve got you,” he said.

Crowley wasn’t returning Aziraphale’s hug. He didn’t want to taint it. Even if Aziraphale gave him express permission to, it wouldn’t have made a difference. It wasn’t Crowley’s place to go around hugging someone as sweet and lovely as Aziraphale. He merely basked in the generosity of Aziraphale’s arms. He would willingly take whatever Aziraphale gave him.

A relieved laugh reached his ears. “Oh, dear me, thank goodness,” Aziraphale said. “Thank goodness. Thank goodness!”

“Eh?” Crowley could barely be bothered to form a complete word.

“You didn’t make it easy on me, you know!” Aziraphale chuckled. “You are dreadfully distracting, do you know that? I must confess, I wasn’t sure that I could begin to match the considerable kindness that you have shown me. I can’t begin to tell you how thankful I am that I was able to do something for you, too. To make it good for you, I mean. I am so… relieved! You seem so happy. Thank goodness I was able to be generous to you for a change.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Crowley murmured. 

Aziraphale, not understanding what that meant, went confused and quiet.

Crowley didn’t like that reaction. “Damn it, angel,” he said. He decided to explain himself, in spite of his lethargy. “You don’t even have a choice about it. You don’t know the half of it. Even if you do nothing but sit there and let me suck you off,” he dragged out the words, eager to relish how they affected Aziraphale, “just reacting to me, you make it good for me.”

“Oh.” The angel’s voice rose so high that it could almost be called a yelp. “Well. Um. Well. That’s… very agreeable. But I, um, had to make sure this happened.” 

“What?” Crowley would never believe that the angel could have planned out this particular outcome.

And he was right. “Well, I didn’t expect this turn of events, exactly,” Aziraphale said. “But, I couldn’t forget how you accepted me. Even after you found out the worst about me. That feeling stayed with me. It was important to me that I show you how welcome you are, too. I wanted you to feel how much I love you, not just hear it. And right now, well, I don’t have to tell you,” he laughed with obvious anxiety, “I am very glad to be an angel who is made out of love! It’s quite fortunate for me. It gives me all sorts of tricks to use on you. Isn't it funny? This may be the first time that I’ve ever been fully qualified for a task.”

Crowley smirked to himself. “I thought this was all your fault for being an angel, though?” he said. “All that angel radiation you’re sending my way. Making me a bloody mess, making me hot for four-letter words.”

Aziraphale groaned. The embrace of his arms tightened. “Oh, shut up!”

“No way,” Crowley said, smiling. “You’re too much fun, angel.”

Aziraphale was too confounded to work up an intelligent rebuttal. “Just shut up and let me hug you,” he said, and he left it that.

They stayed like that for a while longer.

* * *

Aziraphale spent almost the entire rest of the day whistling. He didn’t realise he was doing it until Crowley pointed it out to him. It wasn’t that Crowley was annoyed. All of this whistling was somewhat out of character for Aziraphale, though, and Crowley didn’t hide the fact that he was paying very close attention to any little changes about the angel at the moment. Waiting for the angel to finally come to his senses and change his mind about their relationship, Aziraphale guessed but did not say.

“Oh, I just haven’t figured out where to put all of this happiness yet,” Aziraphale had answered. “You’ve given me so much happiness. I have to put it somewhere!”

Crowley had liked that answer.

So Aziraphale had continued whistling on-and-off. He had to cool it when conversing with Crowley—which was a more frequent occurrence than he had previously realised—and also when they went out for lunch and then dinner. There was a half-hour interval in the middle of the day when Crowley had gone out for groceries, affording Aziraphale a good long whistling session by himself, but that was the peak of the activity.

They had gone for a walk after dinner. Naturally, it was Aziraphale who did the proper walking. Crowley did that thing where he sauntered and leisurely threw his weight from one side to the other. Aziraphale loved that about him. He probably wouldn’t have thought to say anything about it, except that he was an angel, and talking about things he loved came easily to him.

“I love the way you move,” Aziraphale said. “Very self-assured, if that’s the word I want.”

Crowley hid his very apparent satisfaction behind humour. “I live to please, angel,” he joked.

Aziraphale let it slide. For the time being, Aziraphale tolerated Crowley not properly accepting the compliment. It was more than enough for now that Crowley didn’t reject it. Crowley had always responded to compliments with over-the-top immodesty or deflective humour, when he didn’t deny them outright. Aziraphale was aware of it, but he couldn’t be too concerned. 

It was only a matter of time until Aziraphale had smoothed away those barriers around Crowley’s heart. There was no rush. They had all the time in the world.

The breezy evening air against their faces was cool and refreshing. Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand, and Crowley allowed him to. Aziraphale’s brain told him that, at least if any angels or demons caught them out like this, they could probably get away with pretending they were linking hands as part of some defensive magical ritual. Powering each other up, or something. He knew from first-hand experience that angels, at least, would buy anything. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong, either. Aziraphale would protect Crowley, no matter what.

“Hand’s nice,” Crowley said quietly, once, unprovoked.

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, anytime,” he chirped. “I love you.”

Crowley coughed to cover his shock at the unexpected sneak attack. “Cheeky little…” he mumbled to himself, too overwhelmed and too off guard to say what he was really feeling.

Aziraphale’s smile widened knowingly. He was very satisfied with himself.

When they returned home, Crowley brought out some wine from the kitchen, and together they got pleasantly drunk. Crowley draped himself all over his sofa, while Aziraphale mostly kept his respectable posture on the armchair next to the sofa. They took to talking about the last couple of movies that they had seen on the television. 

Aziraphale was always delighted to hear Crowley’s opinion on popular culture. Crowley often appreciated details that Aziraphale had missed, such as the pacing of action scenes, the camera work, and the period correctness of various pieces of technology and clothes. Aziraphale, meanwhile, would wax poetic about the emotional arcs of well-written characters. Crowley didn’t seem to mind hearing about it.

However, after a peaceful and comfortable silence had laid between them for a while, Crowley said, “I’ve been thinking about something.” He paused.

Aziraphale huffed. “Well? Are you going to me leave me wondering?”

“Chill, I’m getting to it,” Crowley said. ”As I was saying, I’ve been thinking about the way you were acting the other day. In the park. When you were talking about less-than-innocent things.”

Aziraphale’s blood went cold.

* * *

Crowley ignored Aziraphale’s poignant silence. Thoughtfully, he continued. “The way you reacted when I was talking about being nasty. If I’d known then what I know now about you and how hot you are for me, I would’ve read into it very differently.”

Aziraphale groaned prettily. “First of all! You were the one who went into great detail about, not me! Secondly, you waited until I was drunk to bring this up, didn’t you?”

“Hey, you can get sober anytime you want. We’re just talking. Anyway, I have a lot of experience,” he went on, “when it comes to people having inclinations they’re ashamed of. At the time, it seemed like you were only being your prudish old self, and I forgot all about it. But it can’t be a coincidence that it came up right then. The more I think about it—”

“Please don’t do that,” Aziraphale said. “Don’t think more about it.”

“Why not?”

“We’re having such a nice time right now. There’s no reason to make things… complicated. Aren’t you having a nice time, too? I certainly am. We have enough things that are new to get used to already. No need to muddy it up. Just, forget about it.”

“‘Ritz! Dinner! Let’s!’” Crowley said suddenly, raising his voice and copying the anxious tone that Aziraphale had used in the park. 

The colour drained from Aziraphale’s face. Bullseye.

“Evading the topic again, are we?” Crowley slowly crawled his way to the edge of his sofa and leaned over to better look over at the angel.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale waved a dismissive hand at the demon, but it lacked heart. He didn’t meet the gaze that was poring over him. “Yes, I suppose I can be prudish sometimes. Ha ha. Go ahead and laugh at the stuffy angel. It must be hilarious.”

“I’m not laughing,” Crowley said.

“How very polite of you. You must be dying to.”

“Stubborn angel. Fine. You wanna be all stiff-upper-lip about it? Fine, then. In that case, there’s something I want to show you. Wait here.” With a grunt, Crowley forced himself into sobriety. Then he extricated himself from the sofa and went into the kitchen without looking back. He quickly returned with the small, opaque shopping bag that he had hidden underneath the sink, right next to the candles that Aziraphale had never found.

When he returned, he found that Aziraphale was perfectly sober, too, and sitting upright again. The posture was a defensive one.

“When I went out today, I didn’t actually go for groceries,” Crowley said. “I went… uh, somewhere else. I got these.” He set the bag down on the living room table.

Something like fear danced at the edges of the angel’s gentle, disbelieving eyes, which were glancing nervously between Crowley and the dark bag. The anxious anticipation was so palpable that some of it even worked its way into the demon’s veteran nerves.

“I thought it would be better to start small,” Crowley said, his voice less steady than he would have liked. “Wasn’t sure how small was too small. Thought this would be a nice start.” He waited for a moment, but it quickly became clear that Aziraphale wasn’t going to open the bag himself. Without sitting down, Crowley took out the least offensive of the bag’s three items. Scientifically speaking, there were four items in the bag, but one of the items was just standard lubricant, and not as interesting as the others. So in his mind, there were Three. He held out the selected item for the angel to see.

It was only a long strip of white cloth, but Aziraphale recognised its purpose immediately. He didn’t speak. His eyes were wide, and his lips parted as if to speak, but he didn’t make a sound.

To Crowley’s lot, this kind of item wasn’t such a big deal. Par for the course, to be honest. Therefore, the fact that Aziraphale was gawking at it gave the item more significance than Crowley had ever given it himself. “Uh, it goes like this, see?” He wrapped it around his own head, and tied it at the back of his head, letting Aziraphale understand how it looked.

But Aziraphale wasn’t saying anything, and Crowley couldn’t see through it, so he had to take it off fairly quickly. When he did, he saw that the angel was in awe.

Crowley held it out to him. “Want to feel it?”

Aziraphale stayed away from the item like it was lit on fire. “Why are you doing this?” He asked, breathless.

“Angel,” he said softly. Of all the cases of shame he had seen, this was the worst that Crowley could remember.

“How can you call me that? I’m no angel.” Aziraphale’s throat was thick. “This is…” He waved his hand again. “These things are not for me.”

“Angel,” Crowley repeated, insisting. “Listen. White isn’t a great colour on me. Too bright. I look better in black.” He raised the blindfold, showing off its total whiteness. “The shop had black ones and pink ones, too, but I got it in white. Wanna know why I got it in white?”

“Because…“ Aziraphale’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Yeah, ‘cause I got it for you.” Crowley went down on one knee before Aziraphale, who tensed. A weight of responsibility fell on Crowley’s shoulders. He wasn’t used to feeling that kind of weight. “Relax, I’m not gonna put it on your head or anything,” he said softly. “Hold out your hand for me.”

His arms shaking, terrified but trusting, Aziraphale eventually did so.

Slowly, as not to frighten, Crowley wrapped the blindfold once around Aziraphale’s palm. He carefully tied the blindfold fast above the palm, as if finishing the bow on the wrapping of a very precious gift. “How does that feel?” he asked gently.

Aziraphale’s chest was shaking. All of him was shaking. His face was one enormous struggle between self-hatred and fondness. “It… feels…“ The answer drowned away.

“Is it bad?” Crowley supplied.

“No. Um, that is, I don’t think so…” Aziraphale nodded, more to himself than to Crowley. “No,” he affirmed, “it’s fine.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s…” A nervous chuckle burst abruptly out of the angel. “What’s there to like or dislike? It’s not doing much of anything, now is it?” he babbled. “It’s just a piece of cloth wrapped around my hand.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “It’s not so bad. Just a piece of cloth. A tool,” he added. “Not good or evil in of itself. Not until someone uses it one way or the other.”

Tentatively, Aziraphale’s fingers curled inward to feel the texture of the white fabric. 

Out of an urge to comfort, Crowley held one of Aziraphale’s knees with a firm and reassuring hand. “One way that this particular tool can be used,” he said carefully, “is to put it over the eyes. If you trust someone enough to do that, and let them take care of you, then it can feel pretty good.”

Aziraphale was still avoiding eye contact. “Crowley…“ He shuddered. “Goodness, how can you make it sound so harmless,” he breathed, “so sweet?”

It made Crowley’s insides seize with his own unsatisfied need to care for the angel. The impatient, reckless Crowley from a year ago would have never recognised the Crowley who was currently kneeling so carefully in front of Aziraphale. “That’s because it can be, in the right hands.” Crowley slowly untied the blindfold and removed it from Aziraphale’s hand. “If ever you wanted to try it, all you gotta do is say the word.”

“Um…” The angel furtively wiped his own wet eyes.

Crowley’s pulse spiked. “It’s totally up to you, of course. It’s only fun if you really want it. If you’re worried about what I would think about it, though, then I gotta stop you right there. Wrapping this blindfold around you, setting you down on your back, making you comfortable, giving you endless pleasure while you lie there and enjoy it, and make such a pretty sight for me…” Crowley relished the visible uptick in Aziraphale’s aroused blush. “That’s my definition of a good time, angel.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Maybe… I guess it might not be so bad….”

“How about now, then?” Crowley asked. He could have kicked himself. That kind of remark was more befitting of the old impatient, reckless Crowley. He could have belittled himself for his own lack of patience, if he cared more about it. He didn’t. He only cared about making things better for Aziraphale.

“Now?” Somehow, Aziraphale was seriously scandalised by the suggestion. “But we already…” He winced. “This morning, we already did… well, we already did it once today, you know!”

Crowley snickered. “So?” His angel would never cease to surprise him. “Nothing says we have to keep that kind of fun to once a day. Who gave you that idea?”

“Why, that’s… that’s so…”

“Decadent? Indulgent? Hedonistic?”

“Yes, exactly!” Aziraphale said sharply.

“Good. I’d hate to think I was getting temperate in my old age.” Crowley casually stroked Aziraphale’s cheek. Moving in slowly, he kissed Aziraphale on the lips, using the kiss to express all his desire.

Aziraphale didn’t hesitate. He welcomed with enthusiasm. His mouth fell open, and Crowley eagerly dominated it. Now that he knew how desperately Aziraphale longed to be desired, Crowley didn’t hold himself back. He caressed Aziraphale’s mouth from the inside and penetrated it deeply, using his lips and his tongue to sensuously appreciate every inch of him. Aziraphale craved his touches and quickly gave in to them. Crowley liberally ate up the soft whimpers that were surrendered to him, hoarding them and demanding even more of them.

He was slow to pull away. Only the unspoken promise of more to come kept him from simply staying there and kissing Aziraphale for hours. “Can I tempt you to accept this present from me?” Crowley murmured suavely, offering the blindfold again.

Aziraphale was panting. His cute, adorable Aziraphale was strong, deep down; yet at this moment, he seemed so vulnerable. “Yes,” he whispered. “Now. Please.”

Calmly, Crowley wrapped the blindfold around Aziraphale’s eyes. “Comfortable?”

“Yes… Though, it is strange.”

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Using his hands to guide him, Crowley encouraged Aziraphale into standing up. “Come over here to the sofa,” he said. “Lie down for me. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” 

Aziraphale obeyed him. He moved very slowly and cautiously. Crowley sympathised with him. The world around Aziraphale had become an unknown, uncertain place. Following Crowley’s directions, he laid his head back on the arm of the sofa. Nervousness and hesitancy marked his every movement in his new world of darkness.

Crowley decided it was long past time that he started making this really good for his angel. “I’m surprised you never asked about what else was in the bag,” he said coolly.

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t just buy a blindfold while I was out. I picked out a couple of other fun things for you, too.”

“Oh…?” Aziraphale was, naturally, very curious. However, he hesitated to ask for details.

“There’s no need to be shy,” Crowley said. “I have no problem telling you what they are, if you wanna know. But I don’t have to tell you what they are. You have a good memory. I doubt you’ve forgotten. I bet you already know what the other two things are. Don’t you?”

The angel flinched. “I couldn’t begin to guess,” Aziraphale lied. Even blindfolded, he was as transparent as a sheet of glass.

“Of course not.” Crowley kissed beneath Aziraphale’s ear. “Want me to put them in your hands?” he said. “Let you feel them, figure out what they are?”

Aziraphale’s hands at his sides clutched the fabric of his clothes. “Ah,” he said lightly, his voice clipped, “that won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? They won’t hurt you. You might even like the feel of them,” Crowley whispered suggestively.

“Ah, well, really, that’s, no, I couldn’t possibly…”

Crowley hushed him. “It’s okay, angel,” he said. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t wanna.”

It hadn’t taken much to get Aziraphale breathing fast. “You’re teasing me,” he whined.

“Yes, and you like it.” Crowley unbuttoned his own shirt, and worked it off his arms, leaving the top of himself bare. He wondered when Aziraphale would realise it. He decided to forget about the other two items for now. The blindfold by itself was plenty to work with. “I’m gonna undress you now,” he said. “Starting with your waistcoat and shirt.”

The thought made Aziraphale squirm a little. “Um, all right.” There was a pause, and then he added, “It’s very nice of you to give me notice like that.”

Crowley growled. “Are you calling me nice?”

Aziraphale squeaked. “Oh, I, um…”

“Yeah, I’m real nice all right.” Crowley threw his body over Aziraphale’s. “Real nice of me to blind my angel and lay him down on my sofa.” He picked apart the buttons of Aziraphale’s top clothes. “And in the middle of our nice round of drinking. Nice of me to shove a bag of adult toys in your face from out of nowhere, and tell you all about how great it will be when I use them on you. And then I don’t even give you ten minutes to think it over before I get to having my way with you. Yeah, I must be a fucking saint.”

There was a small whisper from trembling lips. “I’m… not as oblivious as you think, Crowley.”

Crowley laughed darkly. “Oh?”

“I know you’re doing this as a kindness to me,” Aziraphale whispered. There was a touch of guilt and sadness in the tone. “I know every part of this,” his hands fisted tightly on his clothes, “is because you are being nice to me. Even if I don’t really understand why—”

Crowley growled again, more loudly.

Aziraphale bit his lip and went silent.

That was infuriating. Crowley wanted to scream, just to vent his emotions. “So that’s what you think, is it?” What Aziraphale was saying was largely true, but it was such a misleading interpretation of the truth that it made Crowley angry. “Is that the reason why you said the l-word to me?” he demanded. “Not really pouring your soul out to me; just doing what you thought I wanted? Just being nice?” The harshness of his words contrasted with the delicacy of his fingers on Aziraphale’s clothes. He was sorely tempted to simply miracle all the clothes away and get straight to stroking pure lust into his alluring angel.

“No!” Aziraphale couldn’t say it fast enough. “No, goodness, Crowley. No. I wouldn’t do that. I meant everything I said.”

“Even though you never said the l-word to me before I brought up the whole thing?”

“I always assumed you would have hated it!” Aziraphale argued back with a sudden fierceness, which left him as soon as it had come. “You were always so far out of reach,“ he said, much less fiercely.

That soft tone kindled a fire in Crowley’s soul. “Then why should this be any different, angel? What makes you think I’m not pouring my own dirty soul out to you right now, just the same? Now that you’re so close within my reach.” He slipped the bowtie off of the collar. “I’m not nice. I’m selfish. Now that I know you don’t hate what I’ve got on tap, I have a hundred good reasons to dish it out, and zero reasons not to.” He pushed aside the undone clothes of Aziraphale’s chest and greedily fondled the precious skin that was revealed to him.

Aziraphale didn’t reply. He was too amazed.

Crowley’s tongue followed the path of his fingers. He licked at one nipple until it was hard from the attention.

Aziraphale whimpered. “Ah…” His body jerked in an undulating motion. “That’s… that’s…”

“Obscene?” Crowley finished for him, his throat sounding dry and raspy. “You better believe it is.” He repeated the process with the other nub on the angel’s chest. He took care not to bite or scratch. His angel was sensitive, after all. Every millisecond of this would be nothing but enjoyable for his counterpart.

Aziraphale whimpered again. 

Crowley pulled at Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Sit up. I’m gonna take your clothes off you.” Once the angel had done as requested, Crowley pulled off the shirt and waistcoat. With a splayed palm on Aziraphale’s sternum, he tenderly pushed Aziraphale back down. “Yes, that’s better,” he murmured appreciatively. “Much better.” He couldn’t remember ever seeing so much of the angel’s skin before.

“You really don’t mind the way I look?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Compared to you—”

“Shut up.” Crowley bent over him and whispered harshly into his ear. “Every time you say something stupid and self-deprecating like that, it takes all my self-control not to just miracle your trousers away and stroke you off until you come, just so you can feel how much I want you. You want that?”

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open, letting out a nearly inaudible gasp.

Crowley ran an affectionate hand all over Aziraphale’s chest. He watched how the angel reacted to the feeling of someone touching him while he couldn’t see it. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Crowley’s touch grew more possessive over time. “I’m gonna make you feel so good. I want to see you make a pretty face underneath that blindfold, like the ones that you make when you take that first bite of the food you like. But this time, it’s gonna be me who makes you feel that good. You’re all mine. Mine to pleasure, mine to satisfy. Those cute little noises you make, they’ll all be because of me.”

“Ah… um… ah…”

“You’re gonna trust me to do whatever I want to you while you’re like this, won’t you? You’ll let me do whatever I choose to? Let me serve you however I want?”

It was sinful how deeply Aziraphale was blushing. “Yes…”

“Say it,” Crowley hissed.

“Yes, I trust you.” Aziraphale’s pulse was thumping cheerfully away underneath the skin in Crowley’s hands. 

“Now, lift up your hips,” Crowley said, scooting back. “I’m taking off the rest of your clothes.”

Speechless and compliant, Aziraphale obeyed.

The socks came off. Trousers, too. Crowley ignored the angel’s fully aroused length, though he may have let the crotch of the trousers rub against it as he took them off. He got up and moved the discarded clothes to the table. He removed the rest of his own clothes as well, leaving the two of them stark naked save for the white blindfold.

Their deep breathing filled the room. Aziraphale, being unable to see and having nothing but the sofa to hold onto, was probably out of his mind with anxiety and self-consciousness. Crowley wouldn’t let him stay that way for long.

Crowley took the lubricant from the opaque bag, and returned to Aziraphale’s side. “You’re gonna feel so good inside me, angel.” He retook his place on top of Aziraphale. A sense of belonging immediately warmed him as he did so.

Finally, Aziraphale realised that Crowley’s lower half was naked. His face was filled with awe and wonder. He still couldn’t believe this was real, Crowley thought. “Um, you, um, do you mean,” Aziraphale hesitated to say the words, “your mouth, again?” 

That was heart-wrenchingly cute. “Oh, not exactly.” Crowley noticed that Aziraphale’s hands were clutching the sofa beneath them. “Why don’t you hold onto me?” he said, easing those two hands off the sofa and onto his own bare, sharply-angled hips. “Feel free to grab as tight as you like. I don’t mind scratches. I’ll like them, if they’re from you. Don’t go saying sorry if you nick me.”

Aziraphale nodded. He was too distracted by the new feel of Crowley’s naked legs and hips to say much.

Crowley popped open the cap of the lubricant. He could have miracled some, but in general, he preferred not to do things like that. The human way was always the best way, in his experience. “I’m making myself ready for you,” he said. He poured out some of the bottle’s contents into his palm, and carelessly tossed the closed bottle onto the carpet. He reached underneath his arse and began to stretch himself. 

Kind Aziraphale, who had only small noises and movements to go by, asked in a small way, “Whatever this is, is it going to hurt?”

“Pain will be the furthest thing from your mind, angel.”

“I’m asking, is it going to hurt you?”

Crowley groaned. The angel’s kindness was decadently sweet. “Oh, I’m gonna make you fuck me so hard, just for that,” he hissed. “I’m gonna make you fucking skewer me. Then you’ll see. When I’m impaling myself on you repeatedly, moaning your name like a damn virgin and finding any bloody way I can to get you even deeper inside me, filling me so good, then you can decide for yourself how much fucking pain I’m in. Got it?”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped all the way, and stayed there. The angel was thoroughly shocked.

Crowley grinned maliciously to himself. “And since you’ve got that blindfold on,” he added smoothly, “every bit of it will feel that much more intense to you.” He had two, three fingers inside of himself now. “You can’t see it, but I’m hot and heavy for you right now. I’m desperate to get you in me. I want to slide my tight arse all over the cock of the sweet, nice angel that held my hand on the way home today.” His grin fell, becoming something more earnest and serious. “You said you l-o-v-e me, and then you were so damn happy about saying it that you whistled all day. Why would I want to do literally anything else except make you feel as good as you made me feel?”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped softly. 

Crowley was ready. He settled his hands onto Aziraphale’s chest, aligned himself over the angel, and slowly sat down on him.

Aziraphale was so overcome that he forgot how to moan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has passionate sex with Aziraphale. Aziraphale cuddles sweetly with Crowley. The last pieces of their relationship fall into place.

Aziraphale couldn’t see anything through the thick blindfold, but he could feel everything. Crowley wasn’t moving yet, and it was giving Aziraphale the chance to adjust to the bizarre and wonderful sensation of being inside of him.

“Aziraphale.” Crowley’s sultry voice felt good in his ears. “Are you all right.”

Aziraphale rather thought that he should be asking Crowley that question. “One… one moment, please,” he said anxiously, worried that Crowley would be quick to make good on his promises, or that Crowley would mock him for the delay.

“I won’t move,” Crowley said, “until you say it’s good.”

The truth was that Aziraphale had immediately longed to have Crowley move. He was afraid of how much he wanted it. He was reminded of the times he had sampled an exotic delicacy for the first time, of being alarmed by its foreign appearance and smell, only to fall in love with it at the first taste. “You’re sure that you’re—?” He cut himself off. If he asked Crowley if he was all right, Crowley would have a field day. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was ready to find out what that would be like.

Crowley must have had the same thought, but had found it an attractive one. “Am I sure I am… what?”

“Nothing.”

“I really want to know.” The tease was so wicked that it was on the cusp of sounding genuine.

“It’s nothing,” Aziraphale repeated feebly.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I was sure you were gonna ask me if I was all right.”

“No.”

“If you had, I probably would have started moving anyway, and not slowly.”

“Oh, well." Aziraphale swallowed. “I wasn’t.” He wasn’t sure why he was denying it, though. Wasn’t his whole body begging for what Crowley was threatening to do?

“You’ll like it when I move though,” Crowley said. “I know you're thinking about it. Right now, you want me to move. Your body’s begging for it. Lucky for you, I want to give it to you. I’m gonna make you forget about everything but you and me. Just say when you want it, angel.”

“All right, yes, please,” Aziraphale said weakly. “Now. Please.”

The heat that was surrounding himself released him partially, then fell back onto him. Like a massage, almost, but a thousand times more satisfying. The hips within Aziraphale’s grasp bounced up and down, leisurely at first. The sound of their bodies pressing skin together was surprisingly indecent and thrilling. 

Aziraphale moaned quietly at each indecent caress from Crowley’s body. 

“Feels nice, angel?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale moaned, “it feels so nice.”

Crowley grunted. “Good,” he said. “How about we go faster?”

It was such a tiny detail, but that use of the word ‘we’ charmed Aziraphale deeply. “Faster?”

“I’m going at a snail’s pace, you know. I wanna give you more. You want more?”

Aziraphale wasn’t going to deny him. He loved this sensation. He couldn’t get enough of it. Crowley was so hot and tight around him. “Yes, more, please—”

Crowley went off like a machine.

“Oh!” Aziraphale held onto Crowley’s hips for all he was worth. “Oh, Crowley…!”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Crowley groaned with pleasure as he rode. “You like this. You like my tight arssse all over your thick cock.”

The demon’s foul language only added to the pleasant, urgent heat coiling inside of Aziraphale. “Yes, it’s so good…” The finely pedicured toes at the ends of his feet curled with delight. “It feels so good…”

“Yeah, I like it, too. It's fucking good. I’m a ssslut for it. A ssslut for you.”

Aziraphale didn’t like Crowley calling himself a slut. He fought back against it. “You’re not a slut, I love you,” he said to the darkness that was beginning to fill with stars.

Crowley’s movements stuttered, briefly. “Shit, angel! That’sss a dirty trick, talking like that.”

“It's no trick, I love you. I love how you feel…” Aziraphale moaned with pleasure. “Ah, it’s so good. I love being so close to you…”

The movements grew less and less precise. “Fuck, Angel,” Crowley whined, sounding increasingly needy and more than a little ashamed, “I can’t control myssself when you talk nice to me—”

“Then don’t control yourself, please,” Aziraphale cut him off. “I love you. Oh, how I love you, and how I love this. It’s so good to share it with you…”

“Damn it… So damn nice…" Crowley wasn’t a machine anymore. He was a crazed, groaning animal. 

Aziraphale moaned under the barrage of pleasant sensations. It was so absurdly wanton and luscious. He felt positively gluttonous.

“You look ssso good, angel,” Crowley rasped. ”So bloody adorable. Aziraphale. You still think that blindfoldsss aren’t for you?”

“I… don’t know,” Aziraphale answered honestly between ragged breaths. When he looked inside himself, he found a heart that was torn and uncertain. Wearing the blindfold for Crowley like this made him proud and ashamed all at once. “It feels so good… it makes us so happy…” He was born to be an angel, an agent of all that was good. But he wanted to be Crowley’s angel, too. “I want it to be for me… Is it for me?”

“Of courssse it’s for you. It looks bloody marvellous on you.”

“Ah…“ The power of intelligent thought was quickly fading from Aziraphale. The only truth that remained constant among all his cascading thoughts was that he loved Crowley. “Crowley… my kind, lovely Crowley, please…”

“‘M not kind…”

“You are so marvellous, so wonderful…”

“Damn it, I’m not kind! I’m a fucking horny, sssselfish bastard!”

“And handsome,” Aziraphale went on, an entire galaxy filling the void before him, “and strong, and stylish… so handsome and cool, so much cooler than all the other demons…”

Crowley’s long whine was full of desperation and need. “Fuck! Fuck! Damn it, Aziraphale, shut up! That’s too much! That’sss…!” he yelped in a mad fury, his voice suddenly reached an unusually high pitch.

“But I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale cried, “I want you to know that. You’re the world to me. I love you. I love what you do to me. You feel so wonderful on top of me. I love that we can do this together, just you and me. Like I don’t have to hide any part of myself from you. I won’t hide from you, not anymore. I’ll give you every awful, depraved dream I’ve ever had of you. Anything you want. I’ll trust you with all of them—”

Something hot landed onto his stomach. The pace of the demon riding him briefly crumbled into something so erratic that its randomness actually alarmed Aziraphale, until he realised what exactly had happened to Crowley. While the pace did fumble, it never stopped, even as Crowley moaned until he was out of air and couldn’t moan anymore.

Aziraphale himself wasn’t far behind, not least of all thanks to the aftershocks that were coursing through Crowley down to where their bodies met. It was incredible how powerfully his affectionate praises had affected the demon.

Gradually, Crowley’s pace shifted back into a machine-like tempo. “Ah... Your turn now, angel. Come for me. Come on. It’ll be so good, I promise. Lemme see you lose it for me.” Every movement made was for the sole purpose of Aziraphale’s enjoyment. Each skilled bounce was perfectly calculated to gratify the angel to the point of no return.

At last, there was no stopping it. Aziraphale gave in to Crowley. The stars in his galaxy went supernova. He emptied himself into the demon’s welcoming body, and watched the explosion of lights in front of him with a mind that was numbed by a heady onslaught of pure pleasure. The galaxy popped and sparkled for aeons, until in the end Aziraphale was perfectly content, and there was nothing left but dust. 

That is, until the blindfold came off.

Aziraphale blinked. He took his hands back in order to rub his eyes. The gorgeous face of his beloved Crowley came into focus, welcoming him back to the world of depth and colour.

“That’s my angel,” Crowley murmured, dropping the blindfold to the floor. Apparently, Crowley wasn’t just trouserless. He was completely nude. 

Aziraphale tried to resist looking over Crowley’s lithe, toned body. When that failed, he simply tried not to be too obvious about it.

“Hm?” Crowley was too clever for him. He sat back and gave Aziraphale the best view in the house. “Go ahead, don’t be shy. Take a photo, if you like.” He struck a pose with one hand on his hip, and one hand on the back of his head. His expression was completely serious. “The very fabulous A.J. Crowley is at your service.” The dirty messes that they had left behind on their bodies did nothing to hurt the aesthetic quality of the image.

Aziraphale giggled uncontrollably. He was very fortunate to get to be with someone this amazing. Despite what Crowley had said, Crowley had just done something very nice for him. The demon had uncovered and accepted one of Aziraphale’s most scandalous desires. Aziraphale’s heart told him that it was his turn to do the same for Crowley. That was only fair. Fortunately, when the angel stopped to reflect on all the times Crowley had behaved strangely in the last day, the path forward became clear. He got his laughter under control. “I love you, you know,” he said.

Crowley grimaced. “Oh, come on. Have some mercy on me, angel. You can’t keep dropping l-bombs like that. It’s not civil.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said. “I’ll tell you about how cool I think you are instead.” He took aim, and fired: “While I cuddle with you, that is.”

The arrow hit true. There was a flash of panic in yellow eyes. “What?” Crowley thought fast. “Uh, but, wouldn’t you rather,” he murmured temptingly, “let me show you those two other fascinating things I got for you in that bag?”

“No, thank you,” Aziraphale smiled sweetly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t warned Crowley that he would be merciless. “I’d rather cuddle with you. Not just your head on my lap, but a full, loving cuddle. My dear, would you kindly get dressed for sleep? I want you to be comfortable. Unless,” he said nonchalantly, “you still believe that you and cuddling aren’t supposed to mix? Which is completely false, by the way.”

Crowley stared open-mouthed at him. If smoke wasn’t literally coming out of Crowley’s ears, it might as well have been.

* * *

Crowley was criminally comfortable when he awoke the next morning. There was a sense of comfort and safety all around him that kept him in a snug state somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. The idea of sleeping in for a few more hours appealed to him. His body stretched itself lazily, seeking to immerse itself in the warmth and softness all around it. He groaned happily at the indulgent feeling. His head dug deeper into the pillow beneath it.

“Ah,” a voice of pure love and goodness said. “Good morning, my dear. You can stay where you are, if you’re comfortable. No need to move.”

Crowley’s eyes shot open. He looked down at the fully-clothed arm draped magnificently over his side. The hand had taken to softly rubbing the T-shirt covering his own stomach. Crowley’s mind screeched like the tyre of a car that had hit the break too hard. They were in bed, Crowley was in a T-shirt, and Aziraphale was the big spoon. A blanket was on top of Crowley’s lower half, though it was under Aziraphale.

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked. “Oh, dear. You seem nervous.”

“Car,” Crowley said, instinctively. Once he’d thought of it, he clung to the idea. He didn’t have to think about this right now. He could get behind the Bentley and speed away from having to acknowledge this situation to himself. “Get in the car. We’re going for a drive.”

“No,” Aziraphale said. “If something’s bothering you, I want to hear about it properly. Is it me? Am I bothering you? I can leave.”

“No, don’t leave,” Crowley begged. He tried to remember how he had arrived at this destination. He had a vague idea that he and Aziraphale had gone upstairs to his bedroom last night, shortly after their escapade involving the blindfold. Aziraphale had asked that he make himself comfortable, and Crowley had answered by covering himself up with dark shorts and a graphic T-shirt. Oh, that’s right, he had been naked before that. Aziraphale, however, had redressed himself with his own dress trousers and shirtsleeves. Crowley had invited Aziraphale into his bed, and then… “You cuddled me,” Crowley gasped.

“Yes, we were cuddling,” Aziraphale said. “But that was hours ago.”

“Forget that! You’re cuddling me right now!” The feeling of Aziraphale’s weight against him continued to feel disgracefully nice. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I still am. I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You enjoyed cuddling last night. You asked me to stay like this. Aren't you still enjoying this?”

“Fuck yes I am,” Crowley snapped irritably, trying to be indignant about the whole thing. “Did someone tell you I wasn’t?”

Aziraphale chuckled softly.

The truth was that Crowley was enjoying himself immensely, even though he shouldn't be. He was light-headed and light-bodied. He felt like an empty emotional sponge that had been soaking in a bath of love for hours. He tried to remember more of what had transpired last night. What stood out most in his mind was Aziraphale’s enthusiasm. Aziraphale had been so eager to curl against him, to praise him, and to hold him. The angel was still holding him with that much care. Two clothed legs were curled right up against his own bare ones. “Have you been like that all night?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, more or less.”

“Doing what? Reading? Holding a book over my head, or something?”

“Not reading, no. I haven’t been doing much of anything except holding you. I do believe I may have accidentally fallen asleep for a few hours or so in the middle.”

“What? You? You fell asleep?”

“Holding you is very pleasant,” Aziraphale explained, as if that were explanation enough.

That made Crowley terribly, intensely happy. Only in his worst, most shameful fantasies did Aziraphale treat him like this, like a precious stuffed animal to be freely hugged and snuggled. He coughed down the bubbly feeling rising in his throat. “Er. Why are you dressed like that?”

“This is what I always wear.”

“Even to bed? Trousers aren’t meant to be slept in.”

“Oh, well, perhaps there will be a wrinkle or two,” Aziraphale allowed. “I’ll take care of it later. I don't see why I shouldn't sleep in them. I’m quite fond of wearing these clothes, as you well know.”

Crowley groaned. His angel was so cute that it hurt.

“What’s wrong, Crowley?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

“Something is wrong. You suddenly mentioned going on a drive. That happened once before, too, when you woke up on the sofa. You did take us on a drive, then. Why is that?”

That urge to escape into his Bentley hadn’t left him. He ignored the urge for now, however. “Eh. Who knows? Life is mysterious.”

Aziraphale wasn’t having any of it. “Is that really what you think?” He sweetly kissed the back of the demon's neck.

Crowley clenched his jaw. It was only a small kiss, but it sparked brilliant, unadulterated joy inside of him.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered. “I loved cuddling you last night. Hugging you, just like this. Keeping you nice and warm. Telling you how awesome I think you are.” The angel’s arm tightened around Crowley like the metal safety bar on a roller coaster cart, except that Aziraphale’s arm was soft as well as strong. 

It felt wonderful. It felt like he belonged here. It was sublime. He was doing nothing to return the feeling, though, and he loathed himself for that. “Angel… Sorry.”

“What in the world are you apologising for?”

“I don’t… hug you back very much,” Crowley said. He wasn't built for hugging.

“If you’re apologising about that, then I have equal reason to apologise to you!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I barely move at all when it’s… well, when it’s your turn.”

Crowley couldn’t help cracking a smirk to himself. The angel’s euphemisms were endlessly delightful. “You mean when I have sex with you,” he said, loudly and clearly.

Aziraphale squirmed behind him. “Crowley, please. Not now.”

“What? Did I say a bad word?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Be quiet for a moment and listen to me, will you?”

Crowley wasn’t about to make any promises. He had successfully teased the angel, though, so he was satisfied with keeping silent for the time being. He shut his trap and listened.

“As I was saying. I’m aware that I haven’t taken any initiative in those moments, just as you don’t take initiative at moments like this. I don’t expect you to. This is my area, not yours. I can empathise with your situation. I know how it feels,” he said softly, “to be treading such unfamiliar territory. It is… what’s the word…”

“Terrifying?”

“Terrifying,” Aziraphale agreed, and Crowley already felt loads better about himself. “I’m terrified of making a mistake. Of doing something wrong. Of ruining everything, to be honest. I could never do what you do. I have absolutely zero instinct for it. Not that I ever had the opportunity to develop an instinct. I was always taught to hate and fear that territory of yours. But now I love it, because it is awfully exciting, and you are always there to take care of things for me. And each time, it terrifies me less and less, I think.”

Crowley let the intimate admission wash over him. The same could be said for him. “Yeah…”

There was a long pause. “And it’s terribly fun, too,” Aziraphale added quietly. “Letting you take control of me like that.”

“Easy there, angel,” Crowley murmured back, though he was in total agreement. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Never mind. My point is, if you can’t hug me back yet—if you can never hug me back—then I don’t care.” He affectionately nuzzled the hair on the back of his head. “As long as my hugs are good for you, then that’s all that matters to me. You can have all the hugs you want. I only hope that each hug I give you is less terrifying than the one before it. After all, it’s nothing to be scared of. You deserve each and every one. If Hell ever told you that good demons have to be unlovable, then it was a vicious lie. You are an excellent demon—the cleverest, most tempting demon of them all—and you are also very loveable. That's what makes you so amazing. I love you.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say. He was so moved that his eyes were close to watering. He felt so wonderfully cared for, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. “What should I do?” he begged.

“What do you feel like doing, my dear?” The question was entirely solicitous and kind. It demanded nothing and promised complete acceptance of whatever answer came to it.

Crowley thought about it. “Wanna lie here,” he said. “Wanna do nothing.”

“That sounds perfect to me,” Aziraphale said. “You can leave everything to me. Come here. Give me your head…”

Crowley felt himself being encouraged into turning over, towards the angel. His head and upper body were placed onto Aziraphale’s sternum, so that he was partially lying on top of the angel. His arms fell limply around the angel’s chest, in pantomime of an embrace that he was not capable of giving. Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. The angel ran kind, soothing caresses along the demon’s hair, neck, and ears. He told Crowley about how handsome he was, what a cool demon he was, and how nice it felt to caress him.

Crowley’s affection-starved body shuddered pleasantly under the tenderness of the angel’s generous touches. This was nice. A couple of tears fell from his eyes, but Crowley wasn’t sad. He didn’t feel terrified anymore, either. The terror would probably return again later, but he didn’t give a damn about that right now. Right now, he just felt cherished and loved, and he wasn't ready to leave that feeling so soon. He did nothing but lie there and relish the long-forbidden pleasure of being cherished by the most big-hearted angel in all creation.

* * *

Aziraphale kept glancing at the opaque bag downstairs, every time he happened to pass by the room it was in.

Crowley hadn’t removed it from the living room table. He did remove his discarded clothes from yesterday, and the white blindfold was noticeably missing, likely replaced into the bag. The bag itself, though, sat proudly on the table like a centerpiece all day. Aziraphale divined that it was a deliberate move on the demon’s part to tempt the angel. It was an effective temptation.

The rest of the day passed normally. They shared a wonderful breakfast with hot cocoa, during which Aziraphale used his most fetching pout to coerce Crowley into miracling the wrinkles out of his clothes. They argued about something at lunch, though Aziraphale couldn’t remember what. They stayed in and ate some leftovers in the kitchen at night. They also did other things in between their meals—Crowley legitimately went out to pick up the groceries, for one thing—but meals made for the most wonderful method of tracking time. It was after they had eaten dinner that Aziraphale had decided that his impure curiosity had suffered the mysteries of the opaque bag long enough.

“You simply must do something about those trinkets of yours,” Aziraphale declared in an exaggerated manner. His outburst caused Crowley to stop in his steps towards the living room. “I refuse to watch television with that bag lying around. You know the one I’m referring to. I am not walking into that room again until you promise to either put them to proper use or remove the bag from sight.”

“Oh?” Crowley leaned coolly against the wall. “Do my ears deceive me, or was that an invitation?”

“Your hearing must be functioning quite normally,” Aziraphale retorted, waving a hand in front of his face to lessen the visibility of his reddening face.

Crowley grinned. “Oh. In that case. Sure thing, I’d be glad to move that offensive bag for you,” he said in an insincerely accommodating manner. “I suppose it would burn your innocent angel fingers if you were to touch it.”

Aziraphale watched, uncertain and deeply curious, as the demon skulked away, fetched the bag, and then came back to him.

Crowley pointed at the angel, and then thumbed at his own chest. “Come on, then. You. Me. Bedroom.”

Aziraphale summoned all the bravado that he could muster and replied dryly, “Oh, well, if you insist, my dear.”

An outrageously proud smirk erupted across Crowley’s face.

Quite by accident, Aziraphale burst out laughing. As always, he was so anxious and unsure of himself concerning these matters, and yet Crowley’s playfulness was putting him at ease.

“You’re a riot, angel,” Crowley said. “Just relax, ‘kay? This is the part where you let an awesome demon take control of things.” He hoisted his bag over his shoulder as if it were plundered treasure and led the way upstairs.

Unable to quell his giddy smile, Aziraphale followed.

The bedroom was, like the rest of the house, sparse and modern. Aziraphale was not minimalism’s greatest fan, but it suited Crowley, so it wasn’t so bad. The metal-looking bed frame was definitely overkill, though. While Crowley dimmed the dimmable lights and straightened out the bed sheets, Aziraphale looked around the room in wonder.

“This is the second time you’ve invited me into your bedroom,” he said, remembering how he had lain with the demon in his arms the night before. “I wonder if I’ll be looking at these walls every night.”

“Not every night, that’s for sure, not as long as I’ve got this,” Crowley said slyly, as he lifted the blindfold from the bag and dangled it.

Aziraphale gave a heated huff, but he was a hundred times more glad than flustered. Secretly, or possibly not-so-secretly, it was a relief to hear Crowley’s implicit approval of spending future nights together in the bedroom. 

A quiet, fond expression softened the demon’s features. Crowley returned the cloth to the bag.

“So!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together. “I hate to ask this, but, should I be doing something at the moment? Do you wish for me to lie down, or sit down, or… ?”

“Hm. Not if you don’t wanna,” Crowley said casually. “You can keep standing there, if you’d rather. I don’t mind. I can work with that. I’ll get down on my knees for you. I’ll press my face to your crotch, smell you and rub you through your clothes, until you say it’s okay for me to pull those trousers down, and then I’ll fill my empty mouth with your big, heavy cock over and over, moaning at how good you feel inside me.”

The angel went weak in the knees. He wobbled on his two feet. He knew that it wasn’t just dirty talk for the sake of dirty talk, either. Crowley meant what he said, and that made it all the more arousing to imagine. “Um, um, well, I’ll sit,” Aziraphale squeaked. He plopped onto the corner of the bed, his legs pressing together self-consciously. 

“Dizzy, huh? But that’s not a problem for me. I wouldn’t let you tip over, you know. I’d hold you up. I’d keep my hands on your soft, pretty hips. I’d have to, anyway. To get you moving, I mean.” Crowley circled around Aziraphale, leaning in to whisper when he was just behind the angel’s shoulder. “How else would I make your body thrust into me, make you push deeper down the throat that’s craving you like water, make you indulge in the ecstasy that you can’t take for yourself?”

Thank goodness that question was a rhetorical one. Aziraphale couldn't have answered if he'd tried. He clenched his hands tightly in his lap.

“Aziraphale. Can I touch you?” Crowley murmured lowly.

“Of... Of course you can, Crowley,” Aziraphale said breathlessly to the wall in front of him. “Don’t you know that?”

There was a dark chuckle against his neck. “Yeah, maybe I do.”

“But then, why ask?”

“Because.” Crowley dragged a long, blazing lick behind the angel’s ear. “It’s so hot when you tell me yes.”

Aziraphale whimpered. This was sweet, mind-numbing torment. His body was reacting happily to Crowley’s words, blazing with the desire to be used by Crowley. It was only the two of them here, Aziraphale told himself, as a glimmer of panic began to set in. He didn't have to deny himself. He was free to let the inevitable happen. He longed to let it happen.

“The bed’s a good choice, too, though. There’s plenty we can do here, too. Mind scooting back a bit? I’m gonna show you what toys I’ve got for you, and I’ll need some room.”

Immediately, Aziraphale’s shaking muscles made the collective effort to move his body backwards. He sat upright on his rear at the head of the bed and watched with wide, curious eyes.

“Much obliged, angel. Now, let’s see what Santa brought for you today.” The bag that was hanging over Crowley’s shoulder was dropped grandly onto the bed. “Tell Santa,” Crowley said with an adventurous grin, “have you been a good angel this year?”

But that flirtatious question pushed Aziraphale over the thin line dividing delicate composure and something like near-panic. He was so shamefully excited by what Crowley was doing and saying for him, and so frightened by his obvious failure to be a good angel, that he couldn’t breathe. Maybe being a bad angel wouldn’t be so bad, he thought cautiously to himself—but that notion instantly made him feel much worse. He buried his face and shook his head. “Goodness, gracious, oh dear, oh goodness…“

After a painfully long moment, Crowley’s soft, patient voice reached him. “Terrified?”

Aziraphale didn’t look up. He knew that he wasn’t reacting to Crowley’s masterly seduction like he was supposed to. He was a disappointment to them both. What he wouldn’t give, though, for Crowley to be touching him right now. “Terrified,” he whispered.

The weight of the bed dipped as Crowley silently crawled up the bed.

“One minute, please,” Aziraphale said, not looking up, holding back tears threatening to rush him, “I only need a minute. No need for you to be concerned. I shall be fine directly. I am happy a splendid time. I assure you, I am. I realise that it doesn’t look like it, but—”

“Don't sweat it, angel,” Crowley said. “I didn't really have to ask you that, you know. I already know that you’ve been a good angel. You’re always good…”

When Aziraphale felt a comforting hand stroke the curls on his head, he sobbed aloud. That magical, reassuring touch instantly drained most of the tension from him.

“Forget whatever shit Heaven taught you,” Crowley murmured. There was a vein of anger running through his tone, but the anger was not directed at Aziraphale. “Whoever told you that having fun is bad has no fucking idea what it really means for something to be bad. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about. You’re never bad. You’re never cruel. You’re nice. I could pull toy after toy after toy out of that stupid bag, like one of those magic tricks you used to do, and it wouldn’t make one bloody difference. I could use them all on you, and there still wouldn’t be a single speck of badness on you. You’d still be so damn benevolent and nice.”

Aziraphale wanted to believe that was true. Desperately. “Is that true?”

“Oh, for sure. So nice, and sweet, and cute, and deliciously sexy, too.” The hand in his hair stopped moving. “I bet you’re imagining me pulling toys out of a top hat right now, aren’t you?”

In a white-tie tuxedo, yes. Aziraphale sputtered, “Ah! Well! It’s your own villainous fault, if I am!”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Hm, that reminds me…” Crowley retreated back to the edge of the bed.

Aziraphale raised his head, and used his arm to wipe away a couple tears of joy that were now rolling down his cheeks. If Crowley thought that he was still a good angel despite all of this, then of course it must be true. No one knew him better than Crowley did. Aziraphale smiled happily. It must be a crime to be this deliriously happy.

“Joy's a pretty look on you, angel. Ready to have some fun?”

It was a mystery to Aziraphale how any look on him could be pretty, even if he wasn’t tear-stained. Nevertheless, he let himself savour Crowley’s kind words. “Yes.” He nodded eagerly, sniffling once. His wrists rubbed away the last remnants of his tears. “Yes, please.”

Crowley lit up like a freshly-stoked fire. “That’s more like it. One of these days, I’m gonna tempt you into bed and it’s gonna be nothing but good old-fashioned fun from start to finish. None of this angel-guilt rubbish, just you wait.” Crowley calmly plucked out item number two from his bag. It consisted of two sets of handcuffs, attached to the other. The metal of their chains glistened, but their ends were covered with something white and fluffy. Crowley unhooked them from each other, and demonstrated applying and removing one of them from his own arm for the angel’s benefit. Apparently, they could be unlocked with a simple click. “Wanna give it a test run yourself?”

Aziraphale didn’t need to. He wasn’t frightened. Excited, yes. Frightened, no. With Crowley's help, he had firmly trampled on that fear. “No,” he said. “That’s, um, that’s all right. I understand how it works.”

With a raised eyebrow, Crowley accepted his answer. He set the handcuffs down and removed the final mystery item from the bag. It was like a single pair of handcuffs, except the two fluffy ends were held together by a short, rigid metal bar, instead of a chain. Crowley clicked something on the bar piece, and the bar extended itself, growing longer than the distance between two shoulders. “How about this?”

“Ah…” For reasons that Aziraphale didn’t have a strong grasp of, this item in particular was still scary to him. He pursed his lips, unsure of how to ask. "Uh…" 

“Here, let me show you. Kick your legs out. Don’t worry. We’re just trying them.”

Aziraphale’s legs, which had been underneath him, came out and fell against the bed. He sat in awe as his clothed ankles were each secured. The bar between them forced his legs apart, and the sudden sense of vulnerability that Aziraphale felt was equal parts alarming and enticing. The surrender of his mobility to Crowley—coupled with the flash of desire that Aziraphale couldn’t miss in the hooded yellow eyes that were admiring his feet—was more intoxicating than he had ever imagined. The spreader bar only stayed on for a few seconds, however. Too quickly, Crowley removed the cuffs. Aziraphale, to his great surprise, was very sad to see them go.

“So, between items two and three. Which one you wanna take for a spin?” Crowley asked, in a very nearly businesslike manner. Aziraphale wondered if the demon was even aware of how considerate he was being. He was soliciting the angel’s preferences and feelings at every turn, and never seeming to think twice about it. “Or neither of them?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, uncertainly. “Oh dear. I have to choose only one of them?”

Crowley was startled into a laugh so hard that he fell back on the bed. He slapped his face. “Oh, damn, angel!” he cried with glee. “Not in another six thousand years would I have guessed you would say that!”

The laughter was contagious. Aziraphale couldn’t help but chuckle, too. It was gloriously freeing. “Oh. Is it really so shocking? Well…“

“No, no, don't take it back. It's not bad. You just never stop surprising me, that's all.” Eventually, Crowley regained control himself. “You’re a brave little angel, aren’t you,” he said as he sat upright again, “to say something as bold as that.”

“Me? Brave?” Aziraphale deflected. “Oh, no, I’m not. Merely indecisive. Perhaps you should decide. Which one do you prefer?”

Crowley crept up the bed once more. “Did you really just ask me,” he said, “which one I prefer?”

“Oh, well, why shouldn’t I ask you that?”

“You don’t get it. You’re so damn nice to me, for no reason,” Crowley muttered, up close and personal now. “Nice and sweet to a foul demon like me.”

“Hey,” Aziraphale said sharply, “come, now. You’re a little more important to me than that—”

Crowley held Aziraphale’s face with one hand. “I’m gonna kiss you now. I’m gonna kiss you, and then I’m gonna tie you up, and then I’m gonna…” but what exactly Crowley was going to do was lost to a low, lustful growl. He pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s, pushing forward gently and moaning quietly when the angel welcomed him in.

Aziraphale was certain that Crowley kissed with his eyes open, but keeping his eyes open would have been asking too much of the angel, at least not for the whole kiss. He had quite enough sensations to process as it was. He loved the feeling of being explored by Crowley’s shamelessly inquisitive tongue, and he wanted to lose himself in it.

One would reasonably guess that kisses should be a middle ground between Aziraphale’s domain of love and Crowley’s domain of desire, and yet the truth was that Aziraphale had no sense for kissing. Until recently, the act of locking lips had seemed to him awkward and possibly a little revolting. So he left it entirely to the demon’s care, and he didn’t regret it. Crowley’s kisses were smooth and comforting, quite the opposite of Aziraphale's inital expectations.

While Aziraphale was being kissed, he was distantly aware that one of his arms being moved upwards, above his head.

Crowley softly parted from him. “Is this all right?”

Aziraphale opened his eyes, and stared up at his arm. One of the fluffy white hand restraints had locked his wrist to one of the metallic, mean-looking bedposts. The position was fixed, but not uncomfortable. “Oh.” He noticed that the other restraint was in Crowley’s hand, waiting to be applied to the other arm.

“How does it feel?” Crowley asked, alert and attentive to every detail of the angel’s reaction.

“Fine,” Aziraphale said calmly. “It’s very fine.”

Crowley nodded. He raised the angel’s other arm up, locked the second restraint into place. He rearranged the pillows so that Aziraphale’s arms and head were fully propped up, removing as much potential source of strain as possible. It was a very relaxing arrangement, like floating lazily on the surface of a body of water. Aziraphale's hands curled rather loosely around the vertical bars of the bed’s frame.

Aziraphale sighed. “Ah. This feels… very nice, actually…”

Crowley kissed him on the mouth again, languidly. It felt as amazing as the one that had come before. Then Crowley sat back. “You can keep the shirt on,” he said, “but before I put the bar on you, the trousers gotta go.” He easily unbuttoned and removed all of Aziraphale’s lower clothing, leaving the angel completely bare except for the long-sleeve shirt he had on.

A tranquil sigh escaped Aziraphale, as he felt the throbbing weight beneath his waist freed from its restricting boundaries. He hadn’t paid much heed to the discomfort of it until it was gone, and the removal of it came to him as nothing but pleasant relief.

Crowley almost said something, but then he didn’t. Instead, he diligently continued his work.

A great unyielding pressure abruptly pushed Aziraphale's knees apart. Fluffy restraints were fastened around his ankles once again. There was no way for Aziraphale to close his parted legs. Somehow, the restraint helped him to unwind even further, and he sighed again. No wonder he had fantasised so much about being tied up. It was remarkably freeing.

“I guess you feel good, angel? Relaxed, I take it?”

He’d never felt more relaxed. “Very,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s terribly interesting,” Crowley said. “‘Cause there is one part of you down here that isn’t so relaxed.”

That was very, very true. “Crowley,” Aziraphale entreated hazily, “if it’s not asking too much… I’d very much like it if you… would you be so kind as to…?”

“Sh, sh. You just keep on relaxing. Let yourself go. Leave the rest to me. I’m gonna make you feel incredible, angel.” Crowley stood up at the foot of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. He slid down his trousers and underwear, leaving himself completely naked. He did this all in a place where Aziraphale could watch him and enjoy the view. Crowley was never shy about his body. 

Of course he wasn’t, Aziraphale thought. Crowley was flawless. “I love the way you look,” he said. “You’re gorgeous, Crowley.”

Crowley groaned faintly. “Not now, angel.” He slowly crawled back on top of Aziraphale.

“You are so handsome,” Aziraphale crooned anyway, “so skilful, too, so strong…”

“Ha. You think I’m gonna let you get away with that sort of sweet talk again? That I’ll let you distract me and make me lose control? Not today. I’m staying in control in today.” Crowley grinned. “Of course, you’re welcome to try and prove me wrong. But I’m prepared for your dirty tricks this time, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale rolled his head around. “Hmm? What do you mean?” He calmly wondered if Crowley intended to gag him.

“It’s very simple.” He turned around and took another, previously undisclosed item from his opaque bag. “Surprise.”

The pleasant fog dulling Aziraphale’s wits went slightly clear for a moment. “Huh?” He craned his neck to try to see.

It was an oversized ring, not too different from a small bracelet, composed entirely of a black-coloured material that shone like metal.

Aziraphale didn’t recognise its purpose. He was very curious. “What is that? A napkin ring?”

“A napkin—!” Crowley grinned wickedly. “Oh, my sweet, innocent angel. It’s much more fun than that. You’ll see.” He brought the ring down to his groin, down to his half-hard length, and—

Aziraphale’s brow knitted in hazy confusion. Underneath his relaxing trance was an angel that was completely baffled. “You put the ring on yourself? Why? It’s not… some kind of fashion statement, is it?” Aziraphale was prepared to believe it, too. Humans came up with all sorts of bizarre ideas.

But that guess earned him a short, fond laugh. “No, not quite. This one isn't, anyway. Not even close. I’ll let you figure out for yourself what it’s for, though. See how long it takes you.” Crowley slithered into place beside him, slipping a hand underneath Aziraphale's light shirt to softly stroke the angel’s chest. “Now go back to how you were second ago,” he murmured, keeping his strokes slow and soothing. “I liked that peaceful look on you. Go back to that.”

That request wasn’t at all hard to follow. The sensual caresses on his skin lulled Aziraphale completely back into his state of serenity. His limbs went limp in their restraints. “Ah…”

“That’s it… Just like that… Nice and relaxed, now…“

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed. “Yes.”

“Feeling at ease… safe…?”

“Yes, very…”

“Good. Stay just like that for me…“ Crowley bent over, dropped his jaw, and gently took Aziraphale's aroused length inside his mouth.

A moan of pure ecstasy filled the bedroom. “Oh… dear…” Aziraphale’s head rolled back.

Crowley went at a slothful pace. He gave the angel a few long, heavy doses of soft, wet heat, only to pull back and rest his nose against Aziraphale. “These white curls of yours down here are as lovely as the ones on your head,” he said. “They never let me forget who exactly it is I’m sucking off.”

Aziraphale whimpered softly. “Crowley…“ 

With a smile, Crowley went back down on him, once, twice, three times, making each movement of his head last a torturously long eternity that had Aziraphale moaning with abandon. Crowley pulled back, then, and said, “Who’s my good little angel?”

Two bound hands pulled faintly at their restraints, futilely pulling in the direction of the demon's hair. Aziraphale had nearly forgotten about the handcuffs. It must have been on account of how wonderfully light-headed he was. “Uh… me?”

“That’s right. It’s you. My nice angel.” The warm mouth fell on the angel again, languidly, offering him endless pleasure without a chance at release.

In the midst of his relaxed state, Aziraphale put up no defence to the intensity of the sensations. He moaned loudly, “Oh, Crowley, please… You feel so very good…“

Crowley’s hips rutted idly into the bed at the praise. It didn’t seem to concern Crowley overmuch, however. He increased his tempo by a fraction. It still wasn’t nearly enough.

Aziraphale loved it anyway, though. He shivered with pleasure. “Yes, please…”

“Have I mentioned how pretty your spread legs look right now, angel?” Crowley said next, after another long moment of paying lazy attention to Aziraphale’s pressing need. He was being a vicious tease.

A small flutter of self-consciousness passed through Aziraphale’s legs at Crowley's question. His legs were not flawless like Crowley’s. Reflexively, they tried to close themselves, only to be kept apart by the metal bar, making an audible noise against the metal as they did so. The sudden resistance of that bar was euphoric to Aziraphale. It served as a physical reminder of Crowley’s mastery over him. It was all very simple. Crowley had decided that his legs ought to stay open, and therefore they would.

“There, there, relax,” Crowley murmured reassuringly, looking down at the angel’s slightly shaking knees. He rubbed a possessive hand along the inside of Aziraphale’s immobilised thigh. “Nothing to be scared of. I’ve got you.”

Pure rapture devastated Aziraphale’s mind. He let out a loud, acute moan. It was beyond thrilling to feel himself so firmly caught in the demon’s power. “Crowley,” he whimpered, unable to explain himself, needing above all else to simply say the demon’s name.

Crowley must have understood, because his hand lingered at the top of Aziraphale’s thigh. The hand crept subtly backward, until it was caressing from the front of the thigh to the end of Aziraphale’s rear. Eventually his palm settled on cupping Aziraphale’s rear, fingers occasionally dipping to explore the crevice between the two soft cheeks.

It was intimate and affectionate beyond belief. Aziraphale’s rear was a very private place, heretofore marked as a largely scandalous place in his prim and proper brain. Yet Crowley fondled him there without restriction, even desirously. Aziraphale realised, to his astonishment, that he loved the sensation of being touched there, and wanted more of it. He was beginning to understand that there was no part of his body that Crowley would not touch.

This was all happening while Crowley continued to run his mouth over Aziraphale’s hard and eager length. At one point, Crowley changed things up. He carefully brought his tongue down to a place underneath the hard length, where he licked at another super-sensitised part of Aziraphale’s anatomy.

Aziraphale cried out, “Crowley!” It was overwhelming. Not just because it felt good to be touched there, although that was considerably true. The really overwhelming part, however, was the emotional aspect. The sense of total vulnerability he felt, combined with the complete and perfect care that Crowley was rewarding Aziraphale’s trust with, had him writhing in ecstasy. He belonged to Crowley—he belonged with Crowley. That thought repeated endlessly in his head.

Crowley groaned his approval. He devoted a little more time to that part of Aziraphale’s body, taking great care with his sensitive angel as he did so, until he at last returned his mouth to Aziraphale’s pulsing need. The unbearable slowness that Crowley had favoured finally gave way to a much more insistent speed.

Aziraphale gave in to Crowley’s unspoken invitation. It was clear that Crowley didn’t want him to hold back. Crowley was using his eager mouth to entreat Aziraphale to finally let go. Aziraphale didn’t want to hold back, either. So he grunted gently, and let go.

Crowley was alive with fascination. He swallowed around the angel greedily.

The world within the bedroom shifted around, however, and for a little while, Aziraphale’s vision couldn’t focus on Crowley. The reaction of his body to Crowley was too intense. The consequence of that, coupled with the immobility of his limbs, was that his senses went gloriously haywire. His fingers and his toes sparkled. He couldn’t anchor himself to the feeling of Crowley on him because his skin perceived Crowley as being virtually everywhere. 

Aziraphale could only anchor himself to his own thoughts of Crowley, specifically the thought of how important the demon was to him. He latched onto one of many mental images of Crowley sitting across from him at dinner, half-collapsed against the back of his chair, snickering fondly at something that Aziraphale had said. “I love you,” Aziraphale breathed, as the wave of extreme sensation passed through him. “Crowley. My dear. Please stay with me. I love you.”

Even though Crowley went out of focus, Aziraphale’s heart told him that the demon never left.

When Aziraphale came back to himself, he realised that there was a heavy, comfortable weight draped over his chest. He didn’t understand what it was, until he opened his eyes to the sight of red hair, and realised that Crowley was simply lying on him. It mirrored the position that Aziraphale had arranged Crowley into this morning. The parallel was exact, as a matter of fact, except that Crowley’s hips were sluggishly gyrating against his body.

Aziraphale wondered what the parallel could mean. Perhaps this was how Crowley had really felt, when Aziraphale had cuddled with him. His heart full to the point of bursting, Aziraphale said, “Did you want to do that this morning, when I was holding you? When I tell you that I love you,” he asked, feeling a bit silly that he hadn’t considered the possibility before, “does that always… excite your body, in this way?”

Crowley gave a muffled laugh. “Naughy angel,” he said affectionately. “No. Not alwaysss… Sometimes, just feels niccce… Other times, it’s hot… Dunno why…”

“Oh.” Aziraphale licked his lips. “I, um, like that sound you make,” he said.

“What sssound?”

“That one right there. All of your ‘s’ sounds stretch. Often it stretches a great deal, like that one did. I don’t mention it to embarrass you about it! I like it. I’ll admit, it’s somewhat useful. It’s a bit of a… tell. You only seem to do that when you’re very…” Aziraphale swallowed. “When you’ve reached a certain level of impatience,” he said.

The roll of Crowley’s hips deepened against the angel's side. “Impatienccce,” he echoed, amused. “That's the wrong word for it.”

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to ask for the right word. “Well, why don’t you… attend to yourself?” he said brightly. “I think that would be lovely. I’d very much love to see you do that, if that is all right.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t want to sssee me all needy like this?”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to answer that. His body certainly appreciated the rousing feel of Crowley using him to chase an unattainable relief. His heart, too, was extremely flattered by the undeniable evidence of Crowley’s desire for him. “I… No, my dear. That’s… not what I want at all. I only want you to be content.” 

"Just wanna see me touch myself that badly, maybe?"

"Yes, exactly!" Aziraphale answered too quickly, realising too late that he gave himself away by doing so.

“You’re such a bad liar.” It was starting to seem that, no matter how much Crowley rubbed himself against the angel, his body was never going to quite find the full satisfaction it needed. “This feelsss good. Being hot for you feelsss good. Don’t wanna ssstop. Not gonna ssstop.”

“Oh. Um. Even if I… tell it to you again?” Aziraphale whispered, experimentally, inwardly feeling extremely impish for even trying it. “How amazing and cool you are? How much I sincerely love you, from the bottom of my heart?”

Crowley unleashed a ravaged groan. “Oh, fuck,” he wheezed a laugh. Aziraphale would have thought that he was in agony, except that his desperate voice was thick with frenzied bliss. “Damn, you ssstill haven’t figured it out, have you? You’re unbelievable… You forgot all about the cock ring, didn’t you?”

“The what…?” Aziraphale swallowed. “Oh. Oh.” He finally understood the purpose of the black-coloured ring that was no longer in his field of view. The purpose should have been blindingly obvious from the outset, he realised with a blush. He should have realised that such a rigid device placed on such a volatile part of the demon’s body would eventually be—

“Go on. Ask me if it’s painful. I dare you. I know you wanna. You care so damn much. Ask me, so I can answer you. Wanna know what that answer will be? I told you once before. It’ll be my body on yours, making you penetrate me, making you dig deep into me. I’ll even keep this stupid ring on. I don’t give a fuck. It’ll burn so good, like how it feels to finally scratch an old itch, but way better. I’ll keep thrusting myself onto your cock, using your body to stroke myself on the inside, shoving you deeper and deeper. I’ll moan at how bloody amazing you make me feel, at how badly I gotta have you. I’ll make such a shameless spectacle out of myself in front of you, while I’m using you, and then you won't even think to ask if I'm in pain.”

As overwhelming as that image was, Aziraphale did want to ask, though. Very badly. Too badly. This time, he was willing to risk calling Crowley’s bluff. He took the bait. Even though Crowley had made a very convincing argument about enjoying the sensations, Aziraphale had to be extra, extra certain that Crowley wasn’t just enduring the ring for Aziraphale's sake. “But, is it bad, really?” he whispered. “Are you in pain?”

Crowley moaned in ecstasy. “Fuck, Aziraphale,” he said roughly, “oh, ha ha, did you think I was joking? Well, I wasn’t joking. Not even a little. You’re in for it now.” He slithered backwards. It gave Aziraphale the opportunity to stare at the strained, euphoric expression adorning his handsome face. His hands, which had been lying listlessly about Aziraphale's chest, now slid purposefully down the angel’s sensitive skin, snaking down Aziraphale’s stomach, down to his naked hips, and a little further. 

Aziraphale had been warned. He knew what was coming. The familiar tension of anticipation once again began to build in his abdomen. “Um, but, Crowley, wait,” he said. “Are you really about to…? Surely this doesn’t make sense. Don’t you remember that I already had a… a…” Aziraphale struggled to find a half-way decent name for what Crowley had done to him some minutes ago. “A session,” he called it.

“A sssession,” Crowley echoed. “Fuck, why you gotta be ssso adorable? Yeah, you shot off once already for me. So what? Come to think of it, that’s exactly why this sssecond time is gonna be perfect,” Crowley said, sounding suddenly very delighted. “It’ll take the edge off of things for you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Aziraphale asked. He was a little nervous, though only in a way that was entirely agreeable. The nerves of his body were too relaxed and too at ease to feel genuine anxiety. “Never mind. More importantly, you still haven’t had a chance to… well, I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you. Isn’t this terribly unfair to you? Please, why don't you see to yourself first?”

It surprised no one when Crowley didn’t condescend to reply. On the contrary, his response was to change the subject entirely and get straight to business. “Come on, be a good angel,” he hissed, “get niccce and hard for me.” Unhurriedly, he stroked the angel’s softened length.

Aziraphale’s body enthusiastically obeyed the demon. Unlike before, however, there was barely any urgency in his body’s reaction. The growing desire between his legs was palpitating, but not demandingly so. It was a new feeling. It was enticing. The angel whimpered softly with pleasure.

“Yeah, you’re ssso fucking beautiful,” Crowley said, his blown yellow eyes poring over the angel’s stress-free features. “I can’t wait to sssee how good you’ll look when I’ve got you up my arssse. Can you imagine how good it’ll be, angel, feeling me fuck myself on you while you’re already so blissssed-out like this?”

There was a whine from deep in Aziraphale’s throat. He hadn't considered that until now. “Oh… Oh goodness…” He tried to reach for Crowley, wishing to hold his hand or pet his hair, his hands wouldn’t obey him. He only heard the clash of manacles against the bed.

“Hey, sh, relax.” Crowley whispered soothingly. “Don’t fight it. It’sss all right,” In contrast to his gentle tone, however, he wore a blatant smirk which gave away the truth of his ruthless desire to arouse Aziraphale to the point of madness. The demon stroked the growing length in his grip with as much tenderness as if he were stroking the angel’s restless arms into complaisance. ”Nothing to worry about. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it ssso wonderfully good for you.” 

"Ah… ah…" A luscious shudder wracked Aziraphale’s entire frame. “You’re, you’re doing this on purpose,” he whined.

“Doing what, angel? Feeling up your nice, pretty body?”

“No… er, I don’t know,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. His mind was currently in no state to be useful. “Teasing me,” he tried. “Being… gentle… when you don’t need to be. Saying awfully seductive things, when I’m plainly restrained and willing. You already seduced me.”

Crowley grinned. “Thanksss for the reminder.” He bowed his head and licked along Aziraphale’s defenceless thigh, as he continued to stroke Aziraphale into readiness.

Aziraphale moaned deeply. “Crowley… I mean it…”

“So what if you’re already mine? Like I'm just gonna seduce you once? I never wanna stop seducing you,” Crowley murmured. “I wanna tempt you every second we’re together. Wanna flirt all the time. Gonna drive you nuts with it. I’m a tempter. It’s what I do.”

Aziraphale managed a smile. “Oh, I see. Of course, of course, my dear,” he said, copying some of the demon’s relentlessness. “Yes, you’re the best tempter there is. The most clever, and the most charming. So irresistible. I could never resist you.”

“Oh, fuck…!” Crowley trembled visibly at the compliment. “Damn it, you angelic bastard,” he hissed. He left the angel’s side, much to Aziraphale’s dismay, to fumble with the bottle of lubricant that was in the bag. He hastily shoved some of the dispensed product up his rear. “You have thirty seconds,” Crowley gritted out, “and then you’re fucking mine.”

“Thirty seconds? That can’t possibly be enough time for you to prepare,” Aziraphale said. “Um, please, don’t rush yourself. There’s no need for that. Things can wait.”

“Twenty seconds.” Either Crowley was counting the seconds too quickly, or he had just penalised the angel for expressing kindness.

“Crowley, I am serious! You can’t…”

“Can’t what?”

“You know…”

“What do I know?”

“Crowley! For goodness’ sake. Don’t hurt yourself!” Aziraphale exclaimed sharply. “Please. I’m begging you. I can’t stand the thought of you in pain. I’m sorry I keep asking. I won’t ask again after this. I just have to be absolutely, positively certain that you’re not punishing yourself as a kindness to me. I wouldn’t put it past you to do something like that for me, but I could never bear that. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to feel only nice things. Nothing matters more to me than you having a nice time, regardless of whether you lose control or not. So, please, tell me you’re not—”

“Zero seconds.” Crowley pulled his slick fingers out of himself and slithered forward.

* * *

Crowley, lying bonelessly in Aziraphale’s arms later that evening, did, in fact, feel a lingering ache in his lower body. He was enjoying the ache, though. He could have miracled it away, if it was a real nuisance, but it wasn’t. Somehow, it felt good. Not to mention, he was intoxicated by the sensation of relief that the ache melted into whenever Aziraphale innocently rubbed his body. And Aziraphale rubbed him frequently. So it was all good.

Crowley had ridden Aziraphale for a very long time. He had moved leisurely, making every effort to maximise the enjoyment of the experience for the angel. Naturally, Aziraphale had loved it. Aziraphale had never ceased babbling about how much he cherished the intimacy and the demon who was sharing it with him. He had praised, and pleaded, and sighed with contentment. The sounds and expressions that accompanied the angel’s moans were etched permanently into the demon’s dirty brain. 

Aziraphale hadn’t been the only one who had audibly enjoyed the encounter, either. Crowley had loved it, too. Eventually, even the force of the ring was not enough to stop Crowley from releasing himself all over Aziraphale’s chest. He had been helpless to the blazing affection and trust in Aziraphale’s kind eyes. 

As would be expected, though, his release hadn’t put a dent in his pace. He had kept going. He had ridden Aziraphale endlessly, until the only word that the angel could say was Crowley’s name. He had watched with great interest as his dearest angel had lain back serenely, moaning softly with thorough satisfaction under the demon’s care. It had made Crowley feel dizzyingly powerful. No one could please his angel as well as he could.

Afterwards, when all was said and done, he had dutifully set Aziraphale’s limbs loose. As soon as he was freed, Aziraphale had scrambled to hug him, hold him, and even pet him. Crowley could not have been handled more affectionately by Azirphale if he were suddenly turned into a small dog. The attention was soft and refreshing. Crowley, being in the unusual mood to be kind to himself for a change, had quietly let himself enjoy it.

Aziraphale had picked out his sleeping clothes and dotingly dressed him in them. Most poignantly of all, Aziraphale had dressed himself in one of Crowley’s own breezy T-shirts and one of his pairs of loose joggers. They weren’t as loose-fitting when they were on Aziraphale, though the gracious angel didn’t seem to mind. It had sent Crowley’s possessive heart into backflips, knowing that Aziraphale was relaxing in clothes that Crowley had worn himself. It was only a shame that all of his clothes had to be so dark. Crowley would have to fill his wardrobe with some roomier, light-coloured nightclothes for the angel later.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, sweetly and unconditionally.

With his entire soul, Crowley believed him. “I love you, too,” he said. His voice was faint. The words felt weird to say. For all he knew, he probably hadn't said them exactly right. He hoped against hope that the angel wouldn’t comment on them.

Astoundingly, the angel didn’t. His response was composed entirely of the way he touched Crowley. He silently caressed Crowley’s hand with tenderness and care, expressing his absolute acceptance of the demon. Crowley liked Aziraphale's touches very much. They were innocent, yet passionate, too.

They were both under the covers now, though he doubted Aziraphale intended to sleep this time. The lamp next on the angel’s side of the bed was lit, and there was a book lying in wait next to it. Crowley sighed peacefully. In a way, he supposed, the end of the world had indeed come. His old world was gone forever. This new existence, an existence lived as two rather than one, had opened up a whole new way of living to him. There was no going back to the ancient Arrangement ever again. It had served its purpose. 

They were finally free of all the old burdens. Free to make a life for themselves. Aziraphale had freed him from the shackles of Hell, just as he had freed Aziraphale from the grip of Heaven. Or, at the very least, they had made a very big start in that direction.

“Do you think every day will be like this?” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, half to Crowley and half to himself. “I used to hate how alone you looked, sometimes. I'm so glad to be able to hug that loneliness away for once. I wonder if I'll get to do this every day, from now on.”

“Angel,” Crowley said. “Don’t be daft. I haven't felt alone once since Armageddon. The day you moved in with me. That was when everything changed. This, right here? This is only an unexpected bonus.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Any mistakes are mine. Thank you so much for reading! :)


End file.
